


The Gilded Cage

by LadyAnna (InnanaZoa)



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Drama, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki Feels, Loki's Kids, Loki-centric, Magic, Multi, Orphans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3648870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnanaZoa/pseuds/LadyAnna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One hundred years into a three hundred year sentence Loki is free of his golden prison, Odin is still King, and Thor has but five decades left before he ascends to the throne. With Loki aching to be free of the Allfather's chains, he must endure two centuries of being the magic teacher to a banished Princess of Alfheim who's dark past threatens to snuff out her light. Will Loki be able suffer through his task of keeping the Princess, or will he find the suffering comes when it is time to let her go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Royals of different Houses

**Author's Note:**

> Princess Áine is pronounced *awnya*.
> 
> I made a couple of changes in regards to TTDW, such as Loki never impersonated the Allfather, and Thor did not return to Midgard.
> 
> I own only the Alfheim characters and the plot.

A boot clad foot dangled gracefully over the edge of one of the chaise lounges that adorned the royal library. Of course, had it been anyone else they would have been severely chastised by Fahim, head librarian, or another of the attendants. But this particular man who happened to be clothed in a green tunic and black leather trousers, had a gold belt that hung on his hips with a gleaming dagger strapped to it. His hair was slicked back as always, though slightly shorter than the shoulder long length he had sported during his time in the golden prisons of Asgard. He was no less intimidating in his tunic than he was in his golden armor.

Prince Loki was a dangerous man to say the least, but that wasn’t the reason for the librarian’s lenience with him. No, Fahim had known the prince since he was a boy, before his little stint on Midgard, and had guided him through many an ancient tome. He knew the prince’s thirst for knowledge was never ending, and they had developed a bond through their love of books. So he allowed the boots to rest upon the chaise, if only because the prince thought so highly of literature.

It was only after one hundred years of imprisonment, that Loki was finally allowed entrance to the royal library and as part of his own personal penance, he helped to reorganize the vast collection.

Part of that was a selfish endeavor, as it allowed him to mentally catalog any text that he thought might be of use to him. For he had spent a very boring century with only the last books his mother gave him. Though there were very few books Loki was not already familiar with, he was not so arrogant as to say that he knew everything there was to know. If he were to be honest, which he rarely ever is, he would say that besides searching for new information, he simply had nothing more to do. He was not yet allowed to leave the palace grounds- he had tried on several accounts, but the Allfather’s _containment_ magic was more powerful than Loki’s own- nor could he yet return to his princely duties. He was as the Midgardians put it “grounded.”

That did not mean that he did what he was told all of the time, his still retained his trickster nature, producing small amounts of discord within the palace walls, frightening young handmaidens with illusions, besting the guards with well-placed trickery. It was all good fun for the mischief-maker, but it at times grew… tiresome. They had become accustom to many of his illusions and as he could not leave the palace, it was only when someone ventured inside that he acquired new targets.

Loki often believed that Thor got the easy way out, while his banishment had been far more tedious and unpredictable; it was at least short lived. Given that he still believed Thor to be the favored son, at least by Odin, it did not surprise Loki in the least that his actions garnered him a longer punishment. He had already completed his hundred years of wallowing in the dungeons and had two hundred yet to serve any task that the Allfather placed upon his shoulders.

He sighed into his book. He knew that Odin would take it upon himself to find the most demeaning or cumbersome task he could conceive for Loki to complete; he was old but did not lack imagination by any means.

Several scenarios flitted through Loki’s head before heavy footfalls interrupted the serenity of the library.

 _And here I thought this was a quiet place_ , he mused to himself. _But one could never call my br- Thor quiet._

Old habits die hard.

“Good morrow, Loki!” Thor bellowed, not even trying to contain his volume in his greeting. For his part Loki was unsurprised and refused to look up from the page he had been reading ever so peacefully just moments ago.

Thor stopped just before the chaise, hand resting upon a leather chair beside him as he took in the relaxed form of the figure of Loki, seeming to maintain his grace even when haphazardly slouched over a book. Only a small table rested between the two of them.

“Thor,” Loki drawled in acknowledgment, “What brings you to this side of the palace? Not to read surely.”

“No, I come with a message from Father.”

“ _Your_ father,” Loki was quick to remind. After a hundred years of knowing the truth, this line slipped off his tongue without a second thought.

“Our father.”

“Must we revisit this old quarrel?”

“It was not I who started it!”

Loki furrowed his brow, “Mind your tone, this is a library.”

“Listen Loki, for I bring glad news.”

“I highly doubt any words regarding me from the Allfather would be glad.”

“You draw this out, brother. Are you not the least bit curious?”

“Positively quivering in anticipation,” Loki’s voice dripped with sarcasm that Thor was only just learning to comprehend.

He heard a sigh from Thor and the rustle of his cape as he fidgeted- Thor was never a patient man. It was not this noise however, that made Loki look up from his book, but the gentle swish of fabric he saw from the corner of his eye.

Just beyond his brother stood a maiden in a very ornate looking dress. The garment was cut sharply at the shoulders, so that the long gossamer ends hung from the tops of her arms well down past her waist. The top layer splitting just under her bust so that a gold underskirt could be made out. The pale lavender shimmered with flecks of gold in the light as she walked up to Thor’s side. He could not deny that it was a most flattering dress, rivaled in beauty only by the creature draped in it.

She was not an Asgardian, of that he was absolutely positive, for though she stood with a grace of an _Æsir_ , her pointed ears that peaked from behind a curtain of pale blonde hair gave away her elven heritage. The golden diadem she bore told Loki of her status, though from the beautifully detailed dress it was not hard to deduce that she was royalty. A small smile graced her lips as she caught the prince looking at her, a smile that only grew as Loki raised his brow and snapped the book shut.

With nimble movements, Loki rose from his relaxed position on the chaise to stand poised in front of the unknown elf. He was still a prince after all; he could no more forget his manners than Volstagg could forget a meal.

“Would the message have anything to do with the Lady of Alfheim beside you?”

Thor nodded before introducing her.

“May I introduce Princess Áine of Alfheim. Lady Áine this is-”

Before he could continue on, Loki swept into a most ostentatious bow.

“I am Prince Loki of Asgard,” he proclaimed and placed the most feather light of kisses upon the hand he had captured in his. The citrus scent of her skin filled pleasantly circled him as he looked up at the Princess. He prided himself on his ability to ensnare a lady’s attentions, but could detect no blush on her cheeks. Her eyes however, were alight with silent laughter, and something akin to curiosity.

 _Silver eyes, how uncommon,_ he thought as he straightened up. Her hand fell from his and settled back at her side, a wry smile on her lips.

“A pleasure to meet you, dear God of Mischief,” She replied. A smirk appeared on his face, though he made no other move.

“I see my reputation precedes me, most of it lies of course.”

“That is yet to be seen, after all,” Áine retorts, “all tall tales have an essence of truth.”

“Some would say it is unwise to believe any word of a _lie smith,_ Princess.”

“Then it is good that my task is not to trust you, Prince.”

“Do tell then, what is your task,” Loki purrs, trying to make the Princess squirm. Unfortunately she seems to have a cap on her emotions. _Good, I love a good challenge._

Thor watches amused as his brother stares down the Princess, unaware that they had leaned in towards each other. A part of his heart leaps for his brother, perhaps it will not be so difficult to give Loki his task after all.

“Princess Áine is in Asgard to learn magic and you are tasked with teaching her all she wishes to know,” Thor rumbles, breaking up the moment between the two royals of different houses. Laughter that sounds remarkably like the peal of bells has both princes looking towards the elf.

“I think you are leaving out one tiny detail Thunderer,” She coos, eyes flitting to the elder brother quickly before settling once again upon Loki. He straightens under her gaze, the tension evident in his shoulders to her keen eyes though the smirk is still in place.

“It seems as though my father tasked me with you, just as yours has tasked you with me.”

“Are you a prisoner Princess? I fear I have no time for damsels as of late.”

“And I have no time for arrogant princes.”

His eyes narrow at this, and he takes a measured step forward. Áine does not step back as he would have hoped, but her silver eyes harden into steel. The laughter tucked away, for now. Loki lowers his voice dangerously.

“Be careful with that tongue of yours Princess, it make get you into undesired trouble.”

“I assure you, dear Prince,” she matches his step and finds herself a head below him, her voice whisper quiet so that Thor could not hear, “Any trouble my tongue finds will be wholly _desired.”_

With the last word practically purred she retreats from her close proximity of the dark prince, his eyes darkened with either lust or anger she cannot tell. Thor who stood tense by the leather chair, visibly relaxed at her movement.

Loki cannot help but find the elf intriguing, as there aren’t many who would dare use such brazen speech in his presence. He would be loath to admit it, but it was somewhat of a breath of fresh air; even before imprisonment he was treated with caution, now some backed away in down right fear. While part of him reveled in this, enjoying the power he felt from being able to cause such a reaction in the general public, it only added to the resentment he felt towards Odin. Every scared commoner, every sneering guard, Loki blamed on the Allfather, because it was him who stole the babe from Jötunheim, fed him lies all his life, lead him to believe he could someday be king of a realm he never truly belonged to. It was the Allfather that sent him to prison, gave him this three hundred year sentence and it was only at the mercy of his mother that he had not died when the Tesseract was retrieved from Midgard. Loki no longer blamed Laufey who had left him on that alter, the anger left him when he smote the frost giant in the kings chambers.

But if he was to finally be released from his sentence, to get the dammed _chains_ off his back, then he had to hope this little elven princess held his interest for the next couple centuries. Perhaps she could be of some use to him. After all, if he killed her out of boredom he would likely be forced into another hundred years imprisonment; that would truly drive him into the madness that every creature already believed him to have succumbed.

Therefore, he let the sneer fall off and relaxed his face into a well-worn mask of indifference. The tension did not leave his shoulders however, and he stood with a straight back, nose tilted slightly in the air.         

“Of course, _Princess_ ,” Loki said nodding his head towards her. She remained stoic, her silver eyes regarding him coolly. If he had not known better, he might have said her gaze was reminiscent of a _jotunn’s_ , calculating and cold as ice. Yet, she was a light elf, born of the sun and that is good and peaceful. He knew his own eyes danced with fire when he wanted them to, burning with passions of all kinds: anger, lust, pride, determination. They were completely opposite to that of his true nature, of the coldness that lurks under the _Æsir_ illusion.

 _How silly_ , he thought, _that our eyes deceive each other. Perhaps she would not be so bold if she knew the truth. Most likely she’d faint, small thing that she is._

Her flashed gold for a second, so quickly that had he not been staring at them so intently he would have missed it. There were little speckles of gold in her gaze he had not noticed before, and they seemed to glow in reaction to his unvoiced thought.

 _A mind reader, perhaps she has potential after all._   

Quickly he brought up a mental wall, locking it into place.

Loki would have to look into this, but at a different time, when Thor did not hover so closely. He did not enjoy the presences of his brother as he once did when they were but children. Not allowing his curiosity to shine through, his gaze flicked to Thor, before settling once again upon the Princess.

“I accept. I expect to see you at day break in the gardens,” Loki said. He gathered the book and papers that lay upon the small table in front of him. And as he began to walk away, he threw one last suggestion over his shoulder.

“If you are late, I will retrieve you myself.”

Opening his mental wall just enough for her to hear, _no matter what state of dress you may be in,_ he strode out the door. Walking past the heavy set wooden doors into the stone corridor, Loki could not be certain if the wispy laugh he heard was from Áine, or if it was simply the swish of a handmaiden’s dress as several walked by on their way to their duties.

_Tomorrow._


	2. Banishment is not a Vacation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the Polt and OCs are mine, everything else is Marvel's.

* * *

 

 

_No matter what state of dress you may be in._

She couldn’t help but laugh at the Prince’s parting thought, she knew he would figure out she could _hear_ him eventually, but it took a certain kind of person to recognize her ability after so short an interaction. _He must be very skilled indeed if he could do that_ , she mused.

“I am sorry for my brother’s rudeness, Princess Áine,” Thor said from beside her. His large hand came to rest on her shoulder and it felt as though he placed a bag of sand there. The weight bore down on her, and though she is not particularly weak, that doesn’t mean she found it comfortable.

 Áine maintained her easy smile though, no need to upset another foreign royal.

“It is no mind, I’m sure the Prince likes this arrangement just about as much as I do. And please, just Áine.”

“You do not wish to be on Asgard, Áine?”

“Banishment is not a vacation, no matter how comfortable the lodging.”

Thor nodded his head in recognition, though she could sense it was reluctantly, and gestured for her to walk out the same doors Loki had just passed through. She followed his lead and only partially listened to his animated rambling as he led her to her new _permanent_ chambers.

What she said had been true, it was not her choice to be here on Asgard. Her father, King Vadik, had banished her from Alfheim for the foreseeable future. Well, not him directly, it was his closest advisor Yanrin who had wanted a something that she would not give and her father could do nothing more than fake banishment to help his daughter unless he wanted war within the realm. While the royal family back on her realm knew it, Odin was the only one on Asgard who knew the whole story. It was an unavoidable occurrence, as she had to present a letter from her father to him so that the Allfather may agree to the terms. Odin agreed to house her under the protection of the crown with one condition- she would become the Prince’s two hundred year punishment. Loki would be tasked with taking her on as his student, in the hopes that her peaceful nature rubbed off on him, and that he would learn patience and kindness because of it. In return, she would get protection and lessons in magic, a fair trade she and Odin agreed upon.

Áine was grateful for the King’s generosity, especially in keeping the true nature of her stay a secret, but truly disliked that she was there to begin with. Asgard had a very bloodthirsty history, always storming off into battle and preparing for a war. It was not her cup of tea, so to speak. She believed in war as a last resort, peace could always be achieved before destruction need be utilized- this did not mean she was _against_ a battle when it was necessary which was an idea unfounded on her realm.

 While it is true all elves learn to defend themselves by means of magic and weapons, they never seek out destruction. That did not mean they would not aid an allied realm if need be. They mainly sent help in the form of healers and protectors, fighting only when extinction of a race became a true problem. They were a realm of tranquility and believed knowledge, reason, and diplomacy to be the keys to a peaceful life. Everything about the elves screamed calmness.

 Áine however, seemed to have a propensity for more the volatile emotions, everything she did was done with passion; she showcased the traits of a warrior but because of her royal blood it was looked down upon. She was a princess and was expected to have the docile characteristics demanded of her by the court. So she learned the healing techniques, protection spells, and how to protect herself with a dagger from her appointed teachers. But she longed to learn more than just simple, _docile_ spells; she wanted to feel her magic’s full potential, but was beat down at every turn. After twenty five hundred years of her defiance of tradition, she would have thought they would simply give in and allow her to fight; yet they did not. It was against their most ancient laws to allow her this lifestyle, this form of freedom and the royal council vehemently forbade it and threatened to take drastic measures- it was part of the reason her father "banished" her. She would safe from the council on Asgard.

They passed by the royal wing; Thor’s voice pulling her out of her thoughts as he pointed out different doors and naming whose chambers lay beyond them.

“The king’s chambers are though here,” he waved to a door on his left, “and you may find myself, or my brother, through this hallway.” He gestured to the right where Áine could make out two doors at the end of a short hall, one decorated with a silver hammer above the frame, the other with glittering gold plating on a dark green painted door.

She was just about to turn away when a glimmer around the second door caught her eye. Stopping, she turned to face the door, assuming that it belonged to the dark prince she had encountered earlier. The glimmer was faint, but she could clearly make it out as a bright green film that lay just an inch above the door. Curiosity winning out over politeness Áine neared the door, calling some of her magic up to the tip of her right hand as she leaned towards the barrier. The gold of her magic brushed along the green film in a caress, and a tingle made its way down her fingers all the way to her toes, the sharp scent of mint seemed to encompass her. The barrier did nothing more than glow brighter for a moment and die back down, but that one touch told her much. It was a detection spell, meant to alert the conjurer of any that pass through it, but it was laced a protection enchantment, meant to keep out unwanted visitors.

_How intriguing, I wonder how it works._

But just as she was about to brush her magic against the door again, Thor’s voice called out to her, and she let her hand drop.

“It would be unwise to disturb my brother, m’lady. He has been… temperamental as of late.”

_I will become temperamental too if I have to stay bound to the palace walls for the next two hundred years._

A wry grin stretch across her face as she turned back to the golden prince. She found his outfit, while regal, to be adorned with more armor than she thought necessary to escort someone around a palace full of guards.

 “Do you always dress as if you are ready for an attack,” Áine asked silkily, gliding back to her place at Thor’s side. She ignored his comment completely, but he seemed unfazed. Instead a bitter sweet smile that looked completely out of place on his jovial face appeared as the turned left down another corridor.

“It has been a trying few centuries, m’lady. Bringing the nine realms back into a time of peace has not been easy; we must remain prepared for anything.”

She nodded at his words, though it was not a precaution that her people took place in, she understood it entirely. How she wished she had a set of armor to call her own, to practice and fight in, but her realm would have never allowed it. _But I am not on my own realm now._

They stopped at the bottom of a spiral staircase and she peered at Thor with a question in her eyes. He simply smiled back at her.

“Your chambers are just at the top of these stairs, it is your own personal tower,” he rumbled.

“I do hope it is to your liking, Princess Áine. Should your require anything else, you need only ask and it will be yours.”

“Just Áine, and I’m sure it will be just fine, Prince Thor.”

“Then I take my leave of you; until tomorrow, Áine.”

He bowed with his right fist against his chest, a warrior’s sign of respect and she nodded her head back at him before ascending the staircase.

Two hundred and twelve steps later she found herself pushing open a dark wooden door, yet the room beyond it was anything but dark. Pale lavender walls with gold trimming greeted her, the door opening into what appeared to be a sitting room of sorts. It was furnished with a couple of cream-colored chairs and a matching couch that looked just about to burst with stuffing. A small table sat between them and a gleaming gold fireplace. A desk was fitted in the opposite corner, the aged wood adding a nice accent color to the very pale room. Beside it was a tall bookcase that went all the way to the ceiling, she estimated twelve feet, which was littered with books of all shapes and sizes. She let her hands roam over the titles, some of them Midgardian, elven, Vanir, and _Æsir_ ; some in languages she could not make out. She decided she would explore them in full later.

Áine passed by the fireplace and conjured just enough heat to catch the kindling that would produce for her a lovely fire. To the right of the fireplace was an archway covered with a golden curtain, which she parted to reveal a delightful bathing room.

_The other door must lead to the bedchambers._

Knowing she was right she let the bath water flow into the tub and exchanged her gown for the golden silk robe that hung just next to the archway, dumping her gown in the basket just underneath. Letting the tub fill she walked across the sitting room into the bedchamber where she was greeted by a white canopy bed with purple sheets. To the right she noticed her room opened into a balcony from which she could see the gardens she would meet Loki in tomorrow.

She sighed as she made the curtains fall with  a swish of her hand. Dealing with Loki, she knew, was not going to be an easy task. She doubted anything involving the dark prince was going to be easy.

There was a white vanity on the other side of the chamber and she walked over to it, unpinning the diadem from her hair as she went. The top was covered in pots and paints for her to use, if she wished, but for the moment she ignored them, setting the jeweled piece among them. Another curtained archway was in the room, and she was willing to bet that a fully stocked closet was just beyond it- an adventure she decided to save for after her bath.

Steam filled the bathing chamber when she entered, securing the ties on the drapes before dropping her robe on the chaise lounge next to the bath. She eased into the soapy bubbles, the sent of warm vanilla filling her nose, erasing the mint she had encountered earlier.

 _I wonder if that is part of his magic. Does all magic have a smell?_ Áine pondered in her bath, the rich oils keeping the burning on her thighs and mid back at bay. She tried to think back at all the past magic she had encountered. _I can remember mother smelling of lavender, but was that her or her magic? Father always smelled of liquorice. My tutor Suvia smelled of seawater._

As she thought through all of this she coaxed some magic into her hand, watching as a soft golden glow came to her skin. She could only see it if she was concentrating solely on the edges of her hand, for the color was so pale. Through a series of swishing movement she changed the color of her bubbles from clear to pink, blue, purple, green. She let the colors swirl around in a rainbow fashion next.

Áine was a well-gifted elf; she had her mother’s eyes and long cheekbones, slender arms and long legs from her father. She was spectacular in healing magic, having had years of practice she could bring a man from the brink of death with enough concentration. Of course this drained her very much if done all at once, but it was possible nonetheless. Her protection spells were pretty potent when used on small areas such as a personal shield or a small dome. Illusionary magic came in third, like changing the color of her bubbles or her dresses; she had tried to create objects but was only able to make projections, none of them solid. They were closer to a Midgardian film, just projections. Manifestation she could work on small items, like a dagger or a book, but anything much larger was a bust. Conjuring or teleportation was completely nonexistent, as well as any defensive spells- such things were not available knowledge on Alfheim.

She scoffed, for a realm that boasts intellectual prowess, they certainly kept a whole realm of magical possibilities barred from the libraries. It was the one thing she was truly excited to work on here in Asgard, even if it was with the God of Mischief. Of course she had heard many a tale of his magical ability and the danger that followed the Prince around.

Wrapping back up in her robed she sat in front of her vanity and began to untangle her hair, taking care not to catch her pointed ears on the combs tooth. When finished she secured her hair in a bun at the crown of her head, she was just about to snuggle into what looked like a very comfortable bed when she felt the tingle of minty magic just beside her.

She turned, clutching her robe tightly and stared the shimmering figure in front of her closet.

"How are _you_ here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, who decided to show up in her room?
> 
> I love to hear fead back, its like chocolate sauce on ice cream, Kudos are like sprinkles- not needed but always appreciated.


	3. Clever Bastard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the marvel characters as much as I would like too. 
> 
> Also, I'm dropping the (POV) because technically, it's all 3rd person.
> 
> Enjoy, don't forget to comment!

 

* * *

 

“ _Queen Frigga,_ ” Áine said incredulously, “but you are- pardon me my lady- but aren’t you… dead?”

The Queen of Asgard stood laughing before her closet, looking very much alive, though Áine knew the beloved queen had passed over a century ago. She sat back down at her vanity as the queen walked away from the curtained archway.

“I can assure you I am still indeed dead,” Frigga smiled warmly at her. She narrowed her eyes, but then she caught the glimmer of silver that seemed to surround the queen and she reached out her own hand covered in a layer of magic. The queen glowed bright silver for a moment when Áine’s magic touched the outer edge of the illusion then flickered.

“You are a projection,” she mused out loud, the knowledge coming from her magic as she dropped her hand. The queen’s smile only grew.

“You are very quick my dear. The poor handmaiden who readied your room thought she had seen a ghost.”

She shook her head, “But how are you here my queen?”

"You know very well how, my dear," the queen answered, but said no more.

The queen only stared at her. Áine, sensing that she was waiting for a different question tried again.

“Why are you here?”

“Ah there we go. I am here to assist you my darling, with any advice you may need,” Frigga said, sitting down upon the bed but leaving no indentation. _Not solid._

“Why me?”

Frigga cocked her head to the side in a fashion that reminded her of Loki, “Because while these chambers may not in the royal wing, they are reserved for foreign princess who wish to remain on Asgard for an extended stay. Since the birth of my sons the only princesses to grace this chamber have been suitors.”

It felt as though the weight of Thor’s hand was again upon her shoulders, an uneasiness settled in her stomach.

“I hate to give you bad news, my queen, but I am no suitor to either of your sons.” 

The queen only smiled, “Not yet.”

Áine narrowed her eyes at this. “It is impossible for a projection to possess the power of foresight, how can you know that.”

“This is not foresight, but a mother’s intuition. I may only be a projection, a memory, but I contain all of my former self’s knowledge and experiences. I placed a part of my consciousness into this room when Jane was brought to Asgard with the Aether, just as a precaution should anything happen to me. My sons will never be able wed without my help.”

Frigga laughed again, and Áine couldn’t help but be incredibly intrigued at the queen’s actions. It must have taken powerful magic to work this spell; a permanent, sentient projection would need a lot of skill and concentration.

“Why not leave a version of your self in either of the Princes’ chambers or the King’s?”

The queen sighed and her age could be seen in the fine lines around her eyes and mouth. Áine had never met her in person, but she had heard many stories of the great Allmother. But at this moment, she didn’t see a brave warrior, just a tired wife and mother. She clutched her stomach as she waited.

“I fear they would never have been able to move on if I had done that. So instead I cast the spell here, so I could help with out interfering.”

Áine nodded, she could not fathom what it would be like to see a loved one after they had passed on to Valhalla. To see her brother again… She shivered in her light robe, wishing for the warmth of the down covers.

A smile graced the queen’s face one again and she stood from the bed, ushering the younger woman to the space she just vacated. Áine moved without protest, not that the queen could actually make her, and slid under the covers. The sheets were just as silky as she had imagined them to be; already her mind was drifting off.

“I will be here if you ever should need me.”

Áine nodded at the queen’s offer, “thank you my lady.”

She waved a glowing hand and Frigga’s smile was the last thing she saw before she succumbed to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Áine found Loki the next morning in the gardens just below her balcony. She had dressed quickly at dawn, deciding on a teal gown with gold accents. It was cinched just under her bust and had cap sleeves; it gave her a wide range of moments if she needed to move around much, though she very much doubted there would be any extreme activities this day.

It wasn’t picking out the garment that made her five minutes late, but the fact that she got lost in the palace corridors and had to ask two different guards for directions.

Loki was sitting cross-legged on a wide stone bench, long arms resting on his knees. He was dressed similar to yesterday with leather pants and boots, a green tunic rolled up to his elbows. She noticed his silver dagger was missing, though besides the golden arm cuffs he was obviously not dressed for combat. Not that she was either.

She couldn’t help but admire him; Loki was not an unattractive man. In fact, quite the opposite actually, if she was a lesser woman she would be fawning all over the Prince. Prominent cheekbones, a proud brow, thin lips, beautiful raven locks, well toned arms.

_He could almost pass for elven,_ Áine mused, _he’s only missing the pointed ears._

“Did your mother never tell you that staring was rude, Princess?” Loki's eyes remained closed as he spoke.

"I was merely admiring the view, my Prince," she said, joining him on the bench and mirroring his position. He smirked cockily in her direction and she could not help but notice how it made his face seem centuries younger.

"Many women often find themselves distracted by my presence here-"

"The flowers _are_ quite lovely this time of year. I'm sure many women would find themselves  _distracted_   around you when surrounded by their beauty." 

His smirk fell, thin lips pressed together just short of a grimace. One could not say she wan't quick to the draw when it came to besting arrogant men. The non-Alfar men on her realm could not match the elves in beauty or grace, so they attempted to counter it with money and confident arrogance; for many of the lower class women this  _charm_ worked, but those of the court could not be swayed by such traits.

“What are we going to work on today?” She asked. A breeze blew through the garden and Áine tucked a loose strand of hair behind her pointed ear.

Loki raised a brow slightly and opened his eyes to stare at Áine. Green eyes bore into silver. She truly hoped he didn’t notice the flush on her cheeks. _Why does he have to be so pretty? It might prove difficult to hate him._

His mouth twitched but before Áine could comment, Loki spoke.

“To do anything I need to know the extent of your magical ability.”

“Most of what I know is-”

“Do not speak, show.”

Áine let out a frustrated sigh and glared, she truly disliked getting interrupted. Someone or another had interrupted her whole life; especially during council meetings. They always shut her down quite quickly when she offered input, afraid her ideas would _encourage_ other elves to pick her philosophy of equality. On her realm, young elven women did not speak out; it wasn’t until they past The Age of fifty-three thousand that their words held any weight. She had a very hard time holding her tongue, but managed it whenever she attended court gatherings. Mostly.

She blinked, and suddenly Loki was no longer in front of her. Áine looked around her trying to find him when a dagger appeared out of nowhere speeding towards her.

Quickly she cast her arms out above her head in an X and pushed them down to her sides. A golden bubble surrounded her and the dagger disintegrated when it meet the boundary. Several more were thrown at her in quick succession and she obliterated each one. The leftover dust tickled her face and she sneezed, bobbing her head.

When she looked back up Loki was standing in front of her, arms clasped behind his back. He strode forward and reached out a hand- Áine could just make out a pale green glow emanating from his fingertips.

When his fingers came in contact with her shield she felt a tingle go down her spine as if someone had drawn a line from her neck down to her tail bone with a feather. She tried to repress, hoping Loki wouldn’t take notice to how she reacted to his magic.

He caressed the shimmering gold bubble. The smell of mint greeted her again and she realized it was slightly different to Queen Frigga’s. Hers had been more peppermint in scent while Loki’s was a bit sharper, more like spearmint or winter mint.

A surge of his magic turned her shield green for a small moment before- POP!

Áine was sprinkled with green and gold magic dust, which was a little bit surprising. No one had ever broken her shield by simply touching it. Nor had an attacker's magic stayed like that, sprinkling down on her. In fact she could feel it reenergizing her, the gold of her magic felt good and familiar there was a slightly different edge to it than before. A bit of green seemed to swirl in her hands.

_That must be some of his magic._ Áine’s eyes widened at the revelation. She looked up at Loki and could see her own surprised mirrored in his eyes.

“Um, that’s never happened before,” she said. She looked at her hands, golden glow once again whole.

“Interesting. Your shield was effective, but weak. I found a thin spot and simply had to touch it before it collapsed. That was expected, however,” he mused, eyes scanning over her like she was an experiment gone wrong.

“You receiving some of my magic in that exchange, now that was not.”

Loki was now quite close to her, his face only a hairs breath away from her own. Áine stood her ground- well _sat_ her ground- she would not lean away from him, even if she found his closeness distracting especially when he held her gaze in challenge.

She felt his hand brush a stay piece of hair behind her ear, his magic tickled her skin as his fingers moved against her.

“Winter mint.”

Loki frowned, “I beg your pardon?”

Shit, she hadn’t meant to say that out loud. She cleared her through as he move back from her while throwing a mumbled  _nothing_ his way.

"You are quite a terrible liar." 

Áine managed a small glare only for a moment before sighing.

“You, well your magic it… I encountered it before when I passed by your chambers. I saw the green glow and couldn’t resist finding out what it was made of. Nice detection spell by the way-”

“So that was _you_. How d-”

“And it smelled like mint but I couldn’t figure out if that just happened to be your door or your magic. But just now, I could smell it again, when you disrupted my shield and when you touched my ear. Winter mint.”

Áine finished, her eyes never once leaving his as she explained. He only looked back at her incredulously.

“You mean to tell me,” Loki said slowly, “that you can _smell_ magic?”

“Well, yes. You can not?” She furrowed her brow, tilting her head to the side slightly and she regarded him. His face fluctuated between looks of mild surprise and anger before settling on curiosity.

“Interesting,” he sat back down on the bench facing Áine once more. He took her hand in his.

“Call forth your magic.”

She obeyed. Loki brought her shimmering hand up to his face then inhaled deeply. Though it might not have seemed erotic in any way, Loki had a way about him that could make even the most chaste action seductive. Even breathing.

Unconsciously they had both began to lean towards each other the longer they sat there, him lost in her magic and her lost in his touch. It was peaceful for Áine, most of her life was spent in the presence of advisors how would not condone even the slightest bit of intimacy. She rarely was allowed out of their sight but now that she was away from Alfheim, she may do what ever she desired. Of course fate always finds a way to ruin moments; a leaf had chosen that instant to fall from an over hanging branch, brushing Loki's nose in it's path. 

A small huff of a breath broke her serene moment and her eyes flutter open.

Loki had moved his face back from hers but had not let go of her yet. Áine didn’t pull back; it had been a long time since someone had simply held her hand. She secretly hopes that he wouldn’t let go.

“Do you feel anything?” Áine inquires; Loki quirks a brow. "From before?"

“Annoyance.”

“Fascinating,” she rolls her eyes, “but that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh I know what you meant.”

“The why are you being difficult?”

Loki’s mouth twitches into a small smile, “Where’s the fun in being easy?”

Áine sighs, of course he would make all of this into a game. She catched him off guard and releases a small amount of magic into the hand he had forgotten he was holding. He stiffens and she can hear his intake of breath.

“What did you feel?”

“You seem to be hijacking my lesson.”

“Stop evading the question, Prince.”

Loki rolls his eyes dramatically and looks at her, releasing her hand. A small part of her couldn’t help but feel slightly dejected.

“As I said before, while effective the shield was weak,” he said taking control of the lesson again. Technically he stopped evading and went straight to ignoring. _Clever bastard._

“Just as weak as your mental shields have proven to be this morning. I might keep how _pretty_ you think I may be to yourself.”

Glaring at the stone bench beneath her, Áine slammed up a brick wall in her head reinforcing it with mental metal just to be sure.  _Bastard._

“Better,” he smirked. Oh how she would love to smack that expression right off his face.

“There are two possible reasons for this weakness. Either you truly don’t have enough power, or you are not harnessing enough of what already have. So you’re going to test it.”

“How exactly am I going to do that,” she said through a clenched jaw still irked about the whole mind rummaging.

“Well I could continue to throw larger weapons at you which would be terribly exciting, as I do enjoy practicing my aim or-”

“I'll take option two, please.”

“Meditation,” he continued as if he had not heard her, “Calm your senses, find where your magic rests inside you and learn to command it properly.”

Áine raised a brow at him, was he serious? He wanted her to meditate? Out of all the people in the nine realms, _Loki_ wanted her to meditate, to be calm. The stories surrounding him didn’t exactly paint him as a calm creature.

His eyes however were already closed, hands resting on his knees. Giving in, she copied his position and began to take deep breaths.

_In for five. Out for five._

She worked to empty her mind of everything and focus solely on her breathing, which took less effort than she was expecting. It was frightening how easy it was to think of nothing at all when so many things were swirling around in her mind. Pain was easy enough to push away, memories were tucked away, sense were more difficult and took several more breaths before they finally dissipated. Now alone in her mind, Áine pulls on her magic, calling it to her. She felt the familiar tickle of energy just at the base of her neck. In her minds eye she began to see a golden glow, curious she increased her pull on her magic and the blurry glow began to solidify as if millions of particles were condensing. Encouraged by this discovery she continued watching, fascinated as small golden balls flew around the empty space, pushing and bumping each other as they tried to find their place. Slowly her magic solidified and a long golden rope stretched vertically as far as she could see, it appeared to have no end or beginning. Áine reached out a mental hand and touched the rope, it shone a most brilliant gold and seemed to respond happily with the tinkling of little bells to her touch. The strands felt soft yet strong beneath her fingers rather like a spider’s silk webbing. Flexing her power, she watched in awe as the rope glowed and became taught, relaxing again when she let the power go.

_So that’s what my magic looks like._

Áine began to let the outside world back in, keeping the rope in her minds eye and holding onto her power, letting it flow out of her mind to coil around her arms like the tendrils of a vine. Blinking slowly she peered into green eyes that betrayed the curiosity their owner hid in the firm set of his mouth.

She smiles at him, "Huh. Neat." 

“Well that was informative,” She stated, baiting him. Áine knew Loki would not ask her outright what she saw; he was a man who used manipulation to get the answers he sought without ever having to ask. She guessed it was more fun that way.

Loki frowned and suddenly she could feel a tickle against her mind. Áine laughed and with the image of her magic still fresh in her eye, she mentally whipped the golden rope at the intrusive magic. He flinched back slightly and Áine watched his jaw tick with frustration.

“Now that was rude,” she chastised. Loki only glowered in her direction and continued to push against her ever strengthening metal wall. It was quite amusing for her to watch him push against her mind. But as much as she wanted to continue to taunt him, she was much to eager to keep her new information to herself.

“It’s a rope; the magic. It felt like it was made out of spider’s silk. Very glow-y and golden, somewhat like this.”

Áine raised her hands to show off the delicate swirls of magic that wrapped over her arms.

“That is elemental magic. Drawn in from the nature around you,” Loki states, his eyes instantly roaming over her arms.

“I suspect its part of your elven nature, but it would not account for why your power was weak. The pool of elemental magic is fast and unending, if you know how to harness it.”

She tried not to take the observation as a snub to her magical training, for while it only covered the very basics, she had some instinctual knowledge. Áine knew however, that her teachers never allowed her to call on too much magic, only the bare minimum needed to perform the life protecting spells. But ancient rules be damned, if she was cast from her home, then she would believe they no longer applied to her.

She squared her shoulders and looked at Loki with determination, he lifted an inky brow at her.

“Teach me.”

And he did.

It was small work that day, nothing more than learning to flex the magic she already possessed, using various amounts for spells she already knew how to cast. He was patient with her, which she couldn't lie, surprised her more than she wanted to admit. Perhaps his meditation truly did help him maintain a sense of calm, but Áine was willing to bet that most of it was a façade, meant to lull those around him into a false sense of security. She knew the Prince had gone through much in the past century, surly he couldn't be completely healed for the ordeal.

They worked at this though the midday meal, Loki having bade a servant to fetch them a platter of food to eat in the gardens. By the time Áine had managed to produce shields of varying strength for small projectiles and one ton rocks alike, a bell was sounded for dinner. She allowed her power to dissipate, keeping just enough to maintain her mental wall. Having Loki drifting around in her head was not something she desired.

He accompanied her to the great hall where warriors and palace quests sat in small clusters at tables strewn around the room, stopping just outside the doors. Áine said her fair wells and Loki made her promise that she would not be late for tomorrows lesson now that she knew the way. 

She turned to him but her words of retort died on her lips; Loki was no more than an inch away from herself, green eyes shinning something sinister. He leaned down towards here and for a moment Áine though, more hoped, that he was going to kiss her. Her eyes fluttered closed and a small pant escaped her mouth, but his never graced her lips; Loki brushed back a piece of hair and in a voice that dripped of sex and curled her toes, he whispered in her ear.

"Citrus." 

She sucked in a breath and flashed her eyes open, but he was gone.  _Sneaky bastard._ Áine stood for a moment just outside the doors, hand on her heart as if that would quiet its frantic beat, pondering the meaning of that word. However she didn't need to wait long before it clicked; _my magic._ A small, breathy laugh escaped her and shook her head before entering the hall.

The scent of food instantly made her forget about Loki's parting action.

She filled a plate with delicacies from different platters and did her best to ignore the stares and whispers of those around her, choosing an empty table to eat her meal at. It was there that Thor found her and settled at her table with four others she later learned were the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif.

“Good evening, Princess Áine, I trust your training with my brother went well?”

She nodded, “Yes, our lesson today was quite… informative.”

“He didn’t try to corrupt your mind?”

“Sif!” Thor bellowed. Sif only shrugged her shoulder and bit into a leg of meat

“He has done it before. He is not to be trust.”

“Loki is still my brother.”

“That _brother_ of yours-”

“Loki did not seek to bring me any ill will," Áine interjected, hope to squash the fight that was about to erupt. _Are Asgardians always this snappy?_

Begrudgingly, Sif backed down but not before throwing out one last line on watching her back. The rest of the meal passed without any more upset and Áine could say she genuinely enjoyed the company of the group. Volstagg managed to eat two entire turkey sized beasts; Fandral wandered off halfway through with a maiden on his arm throwing a wink back at the table; Hogun ate less boisterously than the other men, occasionally offering a response to a posed question, and Thor kept her entertained with embellished tales of his adventures. For this moment, she could pretend nothing else existed besides the company she ate with, that she was not banished, that she was not a princess, that she belonged to no people. Simply that she was herself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Loki retreated to his room after dropping off Áine at the dinning hall. He was not one to attend many or any public meals besides the morning meal where he was made to sit at the royal table, which he assumed he was only invited to so that the court would be made aware that he was still a Prince in the eyes of the Allfather, even if disgraced. Often he might take a meal in his room, or he might forgo a meal all together, if he was truly busy.

It was only on around his first millennial name day, when he was just being allowed to speak at council meetings that Loki enjoyed these gatherings, if only because it made him feel powerful. He was quite the diplomat, his silver tongue made even the most stubborn of men acquiesce to Asgard’s wishes. 

His thoughts wandered back on the lesson of today, a sense of curiosity, annoyance, and _arousal_  filled him. That elf had an enormous amount of power from which to pull from, but almost no idea on how to utilize it. If it had been him, Loki was sure he would have pushed his ability to the limits long before now; as he was not gifted with brute strength like Thor, he had to find other sources of power. It was his mother who fostered his magical curiosity and taught him how to wield it in a fight. Magic was his greatest weapon, beside his mind. They were always _t_ _ricks_ , in the eyes of his brother's companions. 

Loki shook away the thought. He would need to start from the beginning with her, the basics of learning how to control power levels of certain spells, when its prudent to use more or less than needed. Then he would move on to more advanced protection and defensive spells, maybe even illusions if she got along well. He smiled, it would not be too long before he would have her move on to more advanced magic. She could even aid him in mischief that was only recently lost to him.

But why was he so interested in helping her succeed? The princess would be fun to toy with certainly, and had the potential to be a very powerful sorceress- yet what did that yield him? Loki was after all, in the business of helping himself before others; self-preservation to the end.

Perhaps he could use her to his advantage.

Absentmindedly he rubbed the gold cuffs on his wrists. _Damn Odin to Hel._ They were magic dampeners, allowing him access to only just enough magic to wreak small amounts of havoc and help heal his mind from his time in the Void. A shiver made its way done his spine. Oh yes, memories from the void were ever present in his mind and only fed the anxiety he felt deep in his bones.

_He will come back. One day. And I will not be able to stop him like this._

Odin had created the cuffs himself enchanting them so that the only way they could be removed was by Odin's decree that Loki’s punishment had been fulfilled- which could last longer than far two centuries- or, if he found love. Apparently the Allfather believed that love was the key to redemption for Loki, that it would keep his _less desirable_ trickery at bay. _What a fool_ , to believe that something as trivial as a woman’s love would keep him from doing what he wanted.

Suddenly, Loki's face alighted with a devious smile and ran a hand down his chest. He _could_ use Áine to his advantage. He would already be in close contact with her for the next few centuries, though he doubted it would take that long for her to fall in love with him. After all, Loki could be quite charming when he meant to be, many a women had succumbed to him in the past. Yes, it wouldn’t take more than fifty years, one hundred tops before she yielded to him. Then he would be free of these _chains_ , able to gather his strength and plan his attack against The Mad Titan.

Loki cast out his mental net, searching for Áine's mind in the palace; he found it, shining gold in a tower on the opposite side of the castle. Lazily he stroked it with his finger, watching as it burned bright at the intrusion before recognizing his magic and seeming to smirk. 

_**Now that's** **rude.**  _Loki's full bellied laughter echoed around the room. And quickly before she could close herself off to him again he sent an image of himself cupping her check and whispering into her ear.

_**Until** _ **_tomorrow_ ,** _**my dearest.**  _

With his new plan in mind Loki lit the candle on his bedside table and drifted asleep, praying silently to the Norns that the nightmare would not visit this night and that the next few decades move as swiftly as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love to hear suggestions from anyone, feel free to leave a comment. Next chapter should be up sometime next week.


	4. Sad Eyes, Little Princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own only my OCs and the plot.
> 
> Still pronounced Awnya. 
> 
> I am playing around with the timeline a bit, I hate when stories only span like 3 days and people magically fall in love- besides these gods and goddesses live for thousands of years, whats three days? So at times it may seem like I'm jumping way forward (which I am) but just remember we have 200 years to cover and not every day is exciting.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

Áine was late the next morning for training, although this time it was on purpose, for she had stopped by the kitchens for a bite to eat and a cook pointed her to a bowl of fruits. Apparently Loki didn’t eat a morning meal, or if he did it was at an absurd hour in the morning, as practice was always held at dawn and there was nothing in sight yesterday.

For the first few weeks all they worked on was controlling the amount of magic used on any spell weaved and continuing to visualize her magic rope. Sometimes she wished it didn’t sound so _juvenile_ ; that was something a child would say about a length of lead rope found in the stables and used for make-believe adventures, not about magic. It wasn’t something she could change however, and so she came to terms with it. Loki would tell her this image meant strength, durability, that hundreds of little strands were useless alone, but when bundled together was almost unbreakable. She begrudgingly felt better after that.

Loki seemed to get playful with her after their first lessons, not holding back the grins that shaped his mouth most pleasantly or light up his eyes like shining emeralds. He was more free in his flirting and more bold in his closeness to her; he pushed her to test the limits of her powers and was quick to tweak her nose or tap the tops of her hands if she started to pull back or wasn’t moving fast enough for him.

She would like to say that these little touches were nothing more than an annoyance to her- but that would be lying. Áine reveled in small bouts of physical contact, it hand been far too long since someone had felt free to touch her. On Alfheim her body was not her own.

But Loki didn’t know this and Áine felt no need to tell him; it had been a long time since she had taken a lover and if he enjoyed touching her, she would not be the one to stop him. She had heard the court ladies talk in the hall and saw the looks they aimed at Loki when they thought he was not looking- apparently he had a reputation as a lover among them.  _Perhaps this “banishment” could be more pleasurable than I first thought._

By the fourth late morning, Loki began sending little surprises to her room- bugs, snakes, rats, bats and all sorts of creatures awoke her if she was not up or pestered her until she was out the door. They would disappear as soon as she left and Loki always put on a completely fake air of innocence when she peppered him with questions.

It was the last straw when Loki himself appeared at the foot of her bed at dawn, lounging as if a twelve-foot Infinity Snake on her duvet was completely normal. That morning was a month into her stay.

He leaned gracefully against a post of her bed frame, his arm cuffs glinted in the light, absent-mindedly petting the scaly head of the snake and smiled gleefully at Áine’s rumpled bedtime state.

She ran a hand through her hair trying to ease the tangles that she had accrued during the night and was very thankful she had taken Queen Frigga’s advice several nights ago and wore a negligée to bed. Alfheim nights were often so humid that she rarely wore anything to bed at all, but nights on Asgard were far colder and apparently people didn’t knock there either.

The snake moved its tail across her legs.

“Sorry to disappoint but I am not one to share my bed with more than one partner,” she said and flicked her eyes to the snake, “and I do not dabble in bestiality.”

Loki smiled deviously at her, with a lazy wave of his hand the snake vanished in a shimmer of minty magic.

“Are you inviting me into your bed, my darling?”

A flutter in her stomach and _lower_ had Áine trying in vain to hide her squirm beneath her silken sheets. He of course caught this motion and a wicked gleam came to his eyes; this did nothing to help her newly smoldering arousal. Neither did having him in her bed, a green tunic open to reveal the top of his pale chest, black leather trousers that clung to him in all the best places, ink black hair slicked back, the ends curling just below the nape of his neck; he was dangerously attractive. _And sitting on my bed._

Áine looked up at him from beneath her lashes and leaned back against her mountain of pillows behind her. She knew at this angle her nightdress would be on the verge of transparent as the morning sunlight filtered through the parted curtains of her balcony.

“If I say yes, does that mean we can skip today’s lesson?” she asked saucily.

“As much as I enjoy strengthening my mind with those ever exciting exercises, I can think of much more pleasurable activities we can do from right here.”

Loki’s eyes darkened as she spoke and faster than she could blink he was on top of her, his body caging her to the bed- hands on either sides of her head, knees parting her hips. She could feel his breath on her lips, the leather against her thighs and she had to stifle a moan at his proximity.

“Mmm… Such a delicious offer. Gift wrapped for me in a layer of silk. And in green even,” one hand snaked down her side and clutched the fabric at her waist, “my my, you do know how to tempt me.”

With every word his lips moved against hers, making her pant quietly with desire.

“I’m nothing if not perceptive, dear prince.”

Loki chuckled and Áine rose up a hand to trace a scare on his top lip. There must be a great adventure behind that mark, Asgardians very rarely scar. He nipped her finger playfully.

“Yes indeed. But don’t think your little distraction will keep you from practicing, Áine,” he leaned down and grazed his teeth against the shell of her ear.

To this she pouted, “We have done nothing but mind work and I grow bored of it. Perhaps if I was doing something more challenging, I wouldn’t be inclined to lay in bed all morning.”

She moved underneath him and his hand that clutched her dress tightened; she heard his breath came out in a tightly controlled huff.

“Little minx,” Loki hissed into her ear, biting the lobe that elicited the moan she had tried hard to suppress. It took all of Áine’s control to not thrust her hips up to meet his, to get just the tiniest bit of friction.

Just because her people didn’t show affection in public didn’t mean that they were as formal behind closed doors, and Áine had her fair share of lovers grace her chambers at night. She would rightly guess the same was for Loki.

“Yes?” She purred. Loki’s hand released her garment only to slide against the bare skin of her thigh. It felt absolutely delicious, his long spider like fingers while strong, were free from callouses and moved whisper soft against her skin. Áine closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the moment. He chucked when her head lolled to the side.

“If I had know this would be my sentence, I’d have acquiesced to the Allfather’s punishments years ago.” He let his nose follow the line of her jaw from ear to chin and back again.

“Yes, it’s quite the gilded cage you’ve got here on Asgard. Run of a palace, books to fill a forest, handmaidens to seduce with your silver tongue.”

“I can do many things with my _tongue_ , little princess. Care to find out?”

“I am four centuries your senior, do not call me little.”

His other hand traveled along her side, ghosting over her curves and she wondered faintly how he was keeping himself from crushing her with out bracing himself on the bed.

“That matters not, I am still much larger than you.”

“That remains to be seen.”

Loki emitted a growl she felt more than heard.

“Perhaps I should show you just h-”

She was so lost in the feeling of his ministrations that she didn’t realize how high his hand had traveled up her thigh until his voice froze and his fingers brushed by a patch of raised flesh. Áine mentally cursed herself for getting caught up in their little game and forgetting who she was; the tension of the moment went from steaming to ice cold.

The negligée was pushed up until it rested on the top of her left hip, the rest draping to cover what little modesty it could. She could feel Loki lean back off her and trace the diamond shaped rune burned into her flesh with his fingers, she held her breath and waited for him to say something.

It was only after several moments of silence that Áine ventured a look at him and noticed all of his attention was focused on her thigh. _Correction_ , focused on her mark. No one ever just saw her skin when it was bare- no, no they only ever saw her mark, her blessing the Alfar would say.

“Are you going to speak?” Áine asked quietly. Loki’s eyes flicked up to hers, there she saw not the awe and idolatry or greed and envy that she was so often met with, but an infinite sadness that swirled in the depths of a pool of green. It was an understanding sadness, one that spoke volumes to her about the one in possession of the stare.

“Do you know what this is?”

He nodded, eyes not leaving hers. It said that he has known the flattening pressure of living in a shadow he could never be free of.

“ _Ōþalan_.”

Áine wanted to look away from him, in shame or in relief she could not tell but his gaze was like a magnet that would not release her. It said that he knew the pain of knowing you do not belong to yourself- your body, your voice, and your life, none of it yours.

“You know what that means to my race, I take?”

Another nod. It said that he knew the excruciating emptiness of being told your life was a lie, that because of your heritage you were nothing more than a relic.

“It is the mark of Galadriel…”

Loki’s eyes told her that he knew what it was like to be fated to be controlled by forces that could not be stopped because they transcended the laws by which they lived.

“It claims you in her name…”

Áine leaned up from her position against her pillows, putting her in Loki’s lap; their eyes never wavered, his had did not move from her thigh. His eyes claimed to understand hers.

“To be her voice, her face, her body on the ground. To be her vessel when she returns.”

She wondered what price he had had to pay for that gaze, that sad understanding- for her price was not cheap it was her soul. Áine gave him a wry smile and some of the melancholy drained out of his expression, which she noted, did not affect his handsome features negatively.

“Funny, you sound just like the dreadful books I was forced to read by the council when I was _blessed by the Goddess,”_ she said ruefully and rolled her eyes. After several centuries those words sounded so dry and fake that she could hardly take them seriously. Or maybe it was just that if she were to take them so seriously, she would live most of her days in fear of when she would be ripped from her body and replaced, tossed into the nothingness, the emptiness- all for a goddess who has not been seen in ten thousand years. Her people called this a blessing, she called it a curse.

Loki laughed, “I’m sure they were quite the read, I can only imagine-”

A small squeak interrupted his next words and as he turned his head, Loki slipped out from underneath Áine, smoothing her nightgown back over her legs. She sent a sweep of her magic against his mind in silent thanks.

An older handmaiden stood with her eyes averted to the side, a bundle of linens in her hands and small child clinging to the edge of her skirts. They both wore simple dresses in a dark, almost brown, gold.

“I’m so sorry your Highnesses,” the woman said cheeks flaming, “I only cam by to- normally you’ve left for the morning by now- had I known you’d had company I would have- I’m so sorry I can go now.”

“No matter, dear thing,” Áine said halting the woman’s progress out of her room, the little girl giggled as she was caught up in the swirl of skirts.

“Prince Loki just came to invite me to luncheon,” she sent a look to Loki and he raised a brow at her before he slid off her bed. “Now that his message is delivered, I’m sure he’ll be on his way.”

Áine could catch the mocking edge to his bow as he was very clearly dismissed. She felt a tingle at the base of her neck as he kissed her knuckles.

“Of course, Princess. Until then.” **_Giving orders are we, darling?_** His mind asked.

“Until then,” she smiled at him and thought back. **_As it should be, sweetheart._**

Loki left the chamber, swept a magic hand against Áine's thigh and gave a nod to the handmaiden who continued to blush and curtsied in return. Áine turned to her, smiled, and rose from the bed to enter her closet; as she began to dress for the day, she spoke to the embarrassed woman.

“You may continue about you duties lady…”

“Vasanna, your Highness.” From behind her curtain she heard the shuffling of cloth and she guess her bed was being remade.

“Lady Vasanna, I apologize for disrupting your schedule.” She picked a gold dress with blue trimming.

“Tis I who should apologize! In my haste I forgot to knock and I-”

“My dear,” Áine said, “Pay no mind to it. We shall call ourselves both at fault and put it in the past.”

“…If it is your wish, your Highness,” came the relieved reply.

“And please, call me Áine. Or my lady if you must; your Highness just sounds too… stuffy.”

She finished lacing up her dress and stepped back into her bedchamber. Vasanna was still busy with the sheets so she sat at her vanity, pinning two braids either side of her head into place. She noticed the little girl stopped fluffing the pillow in her hands to watch her and smiled. Áine adored children.

“Who is the little one?” She asked curiously.

“My daughter Hazel, my lady. She is too young yet for the lessons at the palace so I take her with me during my duties.”

“Has she no one to take watch her at home?”

Vasanna sighed and set about fluffing the pillows her daughter had abandoned before answering. The little one walked cautiously over to Áine who waved her forward when she stopped several feet from the vanity. She rushed forward and threw herself onto Áine’s lap, who waved away the mother’s hastened apologies, and began to look at all the little trinkets and beauty supplies.

“No, we are the only family the other has now. And I do not mean to complain, my lady,” Vasanna began cautiously and rubbed her hands nervously, “but it has been quite… difficult as of late to keep her entertained. She gets her hands into everything.”

Áine laughed and some of the tension in the handmaiden’s shoulders melted away; she ran a hand through her daughter’s curly hair, the little gold ringlets separating and coming back together.

“I was like that when I was small too. Enjoy it, the carefree attitude only lasts a couple centuries.”

She snapped her fingers and stood, placing Hazel on the ground beside her.

“Perhaps, she could spend the day with me. It would get her off your hands for a small while and I do so miss being around little ones.”

Vasanna shook her head, “my Lady, I could not ask that of you-”

“Nonsense, it would be my pleasure. Is that alright with you little Hazel?” Áine looked down at the girl who bobbed her head in agreement and clutched a handful of her dress.

“Yes!” Hazel all but shouted, excitement making her voice shrill. Áine simply laughed again, while Vasanna held hers back with a small smile and an exasperated exhale.

“Thank you, my Lady,” she offered before she kissed her daughter on the cheek. “Now you be good for the princess alight?” Vasanna bowed to the princess, gathered the old sheets and left the chamber. Áine knelt down to Hazel’s height and placed her hands on her shoulders.

“Now, let us have some fun, hm? Have you ever wanted to be a princess, little Hazel?”

Hazel beamed at her and nodded most enthusiastically, “All the time! I play pretend with Fedrur and Dansel and we sword fight and battle dragons and they save me and Illa from a tower!”

Áine’s laugh tinkled around the room, oh the joys of being young. She remembered playing adventure games with the other children in the palace, the endless hours of fun it gave her.

“Well then today we shall make believe you are a princess. But I do believe your missing somethings,” she said, a sly smile on her face. “What does a princess need?”

Hazel’s little brow furrowed in thought and she tapped the top of her nose; it was incredibly adorable.

“To be brave! And nice and she needs a crown and uhhh… a pretty dress- no, the prettiest dress- and a kingdom annndddd… a prince!” Hazel said.

“Well bravery and kindness are proven through actions, but I might be able to do the rest,” Áine said ruefully. She reached a hand behind her to the vanity and pulled her diadem into her palm, with a little concentration she called forth her magic and made a copy of it only slightly smaller. The larger one was placed upon her own head and the smaller she put atop Hazel who squealed in delight.

“Now the gown.” Hands still shimmering, she traced along the little girls simple dress, leaving behind a trail of gold dust. As the dust settled it clung to the fabric, lengthening the sleeves until they drifted to the floor, lightening the brown to a sunny yellow and embossing the edges with green swirled designs. Truly, she looked every bit the miniature princess and Hazel’s little mouth dropped it shocked awe before she launched herself at Áine.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” she cried into Áine’s neck. Áine chuckled before pushing her back just a smidge and rose to her feet, offering her hand to Hazel who took it gladly.

“Now we must find you a Prince,” she said, lead them out of her chamber, opened her mind to the green shimmer of magic that had not truly left her, and smiled when she found his presence in the training field. Oh, this would be a fun day.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! 
> 
> And yes I totally stole Galadriel from LOTR, I just love the name and she worked perfectly for Alfhiem's patron goddess so I couldn't not put her in.
> 
> Kudos and comments make my heart smile. It also makes the next chapter come faster. :)


	5. Play the Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own Marvel, still pronounced Awnya.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

Three people sat at the heavy set wooden table at the front of the great hall, backs cushioned by elaborate decorated chairs that were embroidered with Asgardian symbols that matched the carved legs of the table. At the head sat Odin, who looked much less formidable with Gungnir out of sight, two ravens parched on either side of his head atop the peaked edges of his chair, his one eye focused on the plate in front of him. To his right sat one of the advisors from the counsel who had long since finished his meal and had stayed to inform Odin of several court dealings, his long sleeved robe passing dangerously close by a carafe of syrup with every expressive move of his arms.

Thor sat to the left of his father, red and silver tunic miraculously clean despite the several emptied plates before him and the grease adorning his fingers. Loki always thought Thor ate like a starved animal.

Loki had been approached by a rather shaky pageboy after leaving the princess’s tower and told that his presence was requested by his brother in the meal hall, but when he allowed the boy his leave the page only mumbled apologetically that he was to accompany the prince all the way there. Begrudgingly, Loki and the boy set off.

That was how he came upon the royal table that morning, in a very conflicted mood. There was a strange mix of sadness, excitement, arousal, and something akin to pride that muddled his thoughts about Áine. When she all but invited him to bed this morning he did not envision it ending the way it did- in his version she was left writhing beneath him, screaming out his name in pleasure- with knowledge he didn’t know what to do with.

The legends surrounding Galadriel were numerous in Alfar lore, some saying the goddess was all purity, light, and goodness while others say she had been tainted by the darkness and banished to the ground; all of them agreed on two things however, that she wielded great power and when she would return she would mark those who were worthy to be her vessel with the _Ōþalan._ Loki recalled reading that she had only appeared twice since her final death during the Battle Universal against the dark elves, and both times had been short lived, her vessels dying only months after being acquired. Those who were marked became sacred relics to the Alfar, were revered as royalty, given every pleasure they could dream- except for those of the body as that would make them _impure_ and could render them useless to Galadriel, so the legends told.

But they paid a great cost; they were tucked away from society into the ancient halls of the palace, monitored at all times and were allowed to leave on only very rare occasions. Loki could hardly imagine what that must have been like for Áine as she was already of royal blood and to be then given the _Ōþalan?_ He was sure it was Hel dealing with it all. _No wonder she doesn’t mind the banishment._

What Loki found curious however was not his attraction to her- she was after all ethereal in beauty- or that she was claimed by a long since dead goddess, but rather, why the council on Alfheim had banished her; what had she done?

“Brother! You got my message then?” Thor said as he finished his last bite of wild boar and interrupted Loki’s though process. He sent a dignified sneer towards him.

“I did. Pray tell why I was fetched and followed like an animal, dear brother.”

Thor frowned, “I knew you would not meet me if I only left a message and I knew the boy would annoy you enough that you would seek me out.”

Loki was impressed at Thor’s ingenuity, yet wary at the persistence. What could he possibly want from Loki so much that he had to be goaded into a meeting?

“And what is the message,” he sighed and flicked nonexistent lint off his shoulder.

“I wish for you to join me in the training yard today! I am in need of a good spar and it would do you good to practice. Surly you are rusty after all this time!”

He narrowed his eyes at Thor. _Insult me in public, will you?_

It was the not so subtle blow to his ego that had Loki agreeing to accompany his brother, if only just to show him just how _not_ rusty he was. His eyes flicked to Odin who had not glanced at Loki since his arrival.

“And the Allfather would allow this?”

“Of course, you still wear his cuffs, yes? Then there is no need to fear, brother, it will be just as times of old!”

Thor stood and nodded his head respectively at his father, who spared him and Loki one small glance and nod before returning his attention to his advisor.

“Shall we?” Thor began to stride out the doors of the hall and after only a moment of distain filled resistance, Loki fell in step beside the man he once openly called brother.

 

* * *

 

 

Loki felt the familiar caress of gold magic against his mind a half hour later, followed by the faint sent of citrus- he could not name what particular fruit it smelled of, but it was none the less delicious. A smile graced his lips as he sensed Áine making her way to his spot in the training yard where several sweaty guards and warriors were sparing each other, weapons glinting in the sun light.

He had already gone two rounds with Thor and won them both, before Thor mumbled something about cheating and searched the area for his lady Sif while Loki found a railing to lounge on- well as much as he could with his metal and leather chest plate still strapped together- and polish his daggers.

Loki heard the peal of bells that was her laugh from across the courtyard and looked up to see Áine walking towards him, her hand clutching something small beside her. He lifted an inky brow when he saw that a small child held her hand, one he had seen running around the palace before- one of the handmaiden’s daughters. Yet she was dressed in a far finer gown and jewels than could be afforded by a palace worker; she looked more like one of the court children that attended the palace schoolings three days a week.

“I found him! I found him! I found him!” the little girl cried, the diadem on her forehead bouncing as she ran towards Loki, golden curls flew behind her. He felt an unexpected flutter in his heart at her shining face looking up at him with unabashed glee and awe, a tooth missing from her smile on the right side. It had been a long time since someone had looked at him without a hint of fear or apprehension, without loathing or hostility, without seeing the dangerous man underneath; yet here was this little girl who could barely be more than 5 decades old, regarding him without a care in the world.

“And who exactly did you find, little one?” Loki asked her.

“A Prince! So I can be a princess!”

He smiled down at the little girl, eyes flicked to Áine who glided up next to the two of them he took in the sight of her. Long blonde hair was braided back to reveal her pointed ears, the cut of her gold and blue dress showed just the smallest hint of cleavage and with a slit cut up to her thigh that showed her left leg with every step, her silver eyes were alight with laughter, the gold flecks shone; as elves went she was quite ordinary, but she far surpassed Asgardian beauty norms.

“My darling prince, may I introduce Hazel, resident princess for today,” Áine said and picked at one of her curls, untangling it from the metal of the tiara. Loki stored his daggers in an empty sub pocket of space with a wave of his hand, jumped gracefully down from the railing, swept into a bow and when he kissed her knuckles her eyes opened as wide as saucers.

“Princess Hazel,” he said, his voice tinted with a regal air, “A pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

She giggled at him, which Loki could only find immensely adorable, he always had a soft spot for children.

“Will you be joining us today?” he asked her and she nodded back apparently too overwhelmed to speak at the moment. Hazel latched back on to Áine’s arm, moved herself slightly behind the older woman and looked up through her lashes. Loki moved his gaze back to Áine, a mischievous glint in her eye sent a shiver down his spine and a sly grin spread across her face. He assumed it was in regards to her clever use of the little one to escape her lessons; he noted how it shaped that supple mouth of hers most pleasantly. He smirked back at her in kind, sending a mental image her way with a wave of his magic, showing her all the things he’d like to with her mouth, his mouth; he could practically hear her heart race as he watched her eyes darken with lust. Part of him felt a little guilty that he was tempting her in the presence of a child, but another part of him, a more prominent one, reveled in the naughtiness of arousing Áine in public.

**_In time, dear prince,_** she whispered in his mind, her words wrapping around him like a gentle embrace. **_For now, we play a different game._**

Loki rolled his eyes, failing at shaking of her suggestion, and followed the two princesses out of the training yard.

 

* * *

 

The trio spent most of the day wandering the halls of the palace, the two actual members of royal families showing off the miniature one while the palace staff smiled wistfully at her and played along. Hazel pranced around the marble floors and gave a curtsy to every person she passed- of course most of the handmaidens and pageboys knew who she was, as they had watched her grow up in those halls.

Áine and Loki walked close to each other and surveyed the little princess giggling with joy in front of them. Loki noticed, surprised, that he hardly had to slow his steps for Áine to keep pace with his long strides; he guessed she was only four inches shorter than him. His _jotunnar_ heritage put him for the most part a foot above most Asgardian women and at least a couple inches on most men; her elven heritage seemed to have a similar affect.

It was a small, unimportant fact that they had a common trait.

He liked it.

“Isn’t this a much better way to spend the morning than meditating?” Áine asked.

“It was trickery. You’ve avoided your lesson for now, it won’t last forever.”

“I know, but life is more fun when you ignore the rules.”

“Do you have a habit of mischief, Princess?” Loki smirked.

“If I say yes, am I going to be punished?”

“If you do, I promise you will enjoy every moment of punishment,” the timber of his voice was low and dark, and he could see Áine shiver at his words.

Hazel giggled up ahead as a guard ruffled her curls. They rounded a corner a moment later and came to a set of gates that opened up to the palace market square. Tents, tables and little shops of all sizes and kinds filled the square, people weaved in and out between them purchasing and passing by goods from fine jewelry to fresh baked bread.

A cacophony of voices, scents, and people greeted them as they entered and Loki attempted to push away the edge of anxiety that tinted his thoughts. So many thought that it was being alone when the nightmares and dark thoughts entered his mind but they were so wrong. When he was alone, he could clear his head, he could focus on one thing- his magic, a book, a journal. But when he was crowded, all those bodies making scuffling noises, chatting incessantly, throwing him looks, muddled his mind; the sound roared like raging water in his ears, ever whisper became Thanos lying to him, every laugh was His sinister chuckle, every laugh became the crack of his bones breaking. The crowds Odin forced him attend made him twitchy and anxious, Thor’s thunder reminded him of the crack of a whip, his mother’s absence, of his failure; his family reminded him of pain.

Áine’s hand on his elbow however, reminded him of the sweetest citrus fruit that bloomed in early summer and eased some of the tension in his jaw and shoulders. Her silver eyes met his, the tingle at the base of his neck alerting him to the fact that she had at the very least felt his anxiety- at worst rummaged through his head. Loki wanted to be more affronted by this than he was, after all he was a prince of Asgard, he allowed no one to his thoughts and showed no weakness- yet he found comfort in her touch, and thread her arm through his.

“Stay close, little one,” Loki called to Hazel, his voice controlled yet gruffer than he intended. Hazel slowed down her running, excitement taking her further away from Loki than he was comfortable with- Asgard was a mostly peaceable realm, but that did not mean there were not dangerous people out there. She threw a smile back at the two royals, which they both returned. Áine’s eyes flicked back to Loki, her smile melted into a smirk.

“I didn’t know you had a spot in your heart for children.”

The glare he sent her way held no heat, the hard edges of his green eyes had softened just a minuscule bit from being around Hazel. Loki looked back out to the throngs of people, keeping his gaze locked on the little girl as he spoke.

“Many of my tutors I out grew quite quickly but I never stopped seeking out knowledge. Eventually I spent so many hours in the library, Fahim-the head librarian- said I would become one with the dust if I sat there any longer,” he laughed.

“He bared me from the building for several hours every day, told me to seek out another fulfilling activity to entertain my mind. I already practiced magic with Mother, trained with Thor, and attended council meetings with fa- Odin, so I wandered the halls, I hadn’t yet mastered trans-realm teleportation. I walked into a meeting chamber one afternoon and watched a class for little courtiers; their eagerness to learn was… refreshing.

“Some of them anyway, I ended up tutoring a few of them after their lessons were over for the day: math, literature, astronomy, history, what ever they fancied. Some of them are trusted counsel members now because of me.”

Pride radiated through Loki as he thought of those little ones who had long since grown– he hadn’t tutored anyone since Thor’s botched coronation over a century ago.

“I taught as well,” Áine said, pulling on his arm slightly as they stopped behind Hazel who stood on her tiptoes to peer at a display of hair ribbons. She seemed especially interested in the green ones and Loki filed that information away for later.

“Is that so.”

“Yes, I trained the commoners’ healers at first, just little townships that were in need. Eventually I became skilled enough to surpass the abilities of some of the royal healers, and went on to teach other, less magically inclined races healing magic,” Áine said. Loki noticed all the eyes staring at the pair of them as they walked along; they were all quick to avert their gaze as soon as they were caught but he could feel them back on him the moment he passed by. Some were merely curious as Loki did not often leave the confines of the palace– the square however was technically still part of it, otherwise his cuffs would have begun to burn him in warning that he left his predetermined boundaries. Other looks ranged from a very small amount of begrudging acceptance to downright distain.

“I do believe I taught some Asgardians as well. I do remember one girl was particularly good, Sigyn I believe, was her name. You know her, yes?”

Loki tensed his linked arm, he knew Sigyn quite well. Both of their parents tried for ages to get them to wed, she was from a well-known court family and was not entirely a bad match, save for the fact that they utterly hated each other.

“Indeed I do,” Loki said tersely and searched the square for Hazel in an attempt to avoid Áine’s gaze, he spotted her just ahead and watched as she leaned over the edge of a fountain and let the water run over her hand. He directed them towards the fountain, thankful that it was mostly bare of other people, and pull Áine down to sit beside him.

“You are not getting out of your lesson for today, my darling-”

“Back to that again? Truly a terrible attempt to change the subject-”

“So we will work here. Now gather your magic.”

Áine shot him a glare that only made him smirk but obeyed none the less, the gold flecks in her silver eyes shinning. The scent of citrus waved by his nose and he felt an invisible hand cup his cheek, trail along his jaw, down the column of his throat, across his collar bone; an invisible finger began to work its way down his chest and heat blossomed in its wake, burning down past his navel to-

“Now, now,” Loki interrupted, and pinched her side, “behave. We have an audience.”

Her eyes flicked around the market, taking in the small amount of people in this corner and Hazel who continued to play with the fountain. True there weren’t many around, a handful of shoppers and storeowners, the odd guard or two making rounds, but all of them sent glances to the trio every so often. Curious, accepting, disdainful. 

“Your focus is object manipulation. Pick an object,” he pointed to a gold ring on a table to their left, nestled in a velvet display, “and move it elsewhere.” Loki flicked his hand with a pulse of magic and the gold ring glided from its position and landed on the other side of the table amongst a pile of bracelets. He felt a measure of satisfaction that no one batted an eye, even if it was such a small movement. Áine grinned and copied his motion, putting the ring back in its velvet display, and then with another flick she swapped two arm braces over each other in a smiths shop beside the jewelry stand. Encouraged, she moved little things all wound the area they were seated in, ribbons, loaves of bread, even pieces of armour.

Loki nodded, “not terrible.”

“I can see your lie, darling. That was perfect.”

“It was simple, a child Hazel’s age could do that.”

Loki moved his gaze back to the girl in question, enjoying the way the sun seemed to shine from her curls instead of just reflecting it and how he could see the gap her missing tooth made when she smiled up at him, which he returned in kind. He’d hardly know this little girl a day and yet he harbored an inexplicable fondness for her.

“You jest,” Áine laughed; he only smirked at her as his hand brushed a blonde lock of escaped hair behind her hair, fingers lingered on the pointed tip. Loki leaned into the ear he hand hold of and whispered.

“I certainly could, but then, I’ve always been quick study.”

“Feel the need to study anything new lately?” she asked slyly, “I’ve been told I’m quite the _exciting_ read.”

A laugh escaped his mouth and goose flesh broke out across her neck, Loki resisted the urge to bite the lobe of her ear. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, Hazel had grabbed onto the edge of Áine’s gown and tugged on it, casing the slit in the fabric to widen and reveal more of her leg. Áine turned her gaze down to the little one and regarded her.

“Yes, little princess?” She asked.

“I’m hungry. Can we eat?”

Loki rose, pulling Áine up with him by the hand, ignoring the gazes at his back.

He grinned wickedly, “Yes, I would rather like something to _eat_ as well.”

“Keep your tongue in your mouth, Loki. There are children present,” Áine scolded. She tuned from him with Hazel in hand and began to weave back through the market. Loki followed after them with a laugh, _Norns she was fun to play with._

Sure he had planned to make it all an act, flirt with her, get her to trust him, become so completely dependent on him for happiness that she would fall, gracelessly in love with him. Unfortunately Loki found he actually _liked_ talking to the banished and marked Princess of Alfheim; she matched pace with his not only his strides but his mind, was quick to take up new spell techniques and as he recently learned had an acceptance of mischief that excited him. He could not say that she had made a place for herself in his heart, for he didn’t know his own heart as his Mother always seemed to; what he would not give to speak with her just one last time. That did not mean he could not feel, and it did not mean he didn’t begrudgingly enjoy the shared traits between him and Áine, but it did mean he would do his damn best to push those feelings to the side for as long as he could.

Loki stood to the side when Áine and Hazel entered the great hall in search of food, biding them a farewell before heading back to his chambers. He tried, in vain, to teleport there, but the magic of his cuffs was too strong, loath as he was to admit it he had to walk just like every other. Of course he already knew this, he tested the boundaries of his imprisonment the moment he had be released to his chambers. They bound some of his more _destructive_ magic including teleporting, they also had the nasty habit of burning him were he to try and leave the palace walls– something he spent an afternoon testing, the longer he stayed beyond the boundary, the more it burned.

The bed dipped beneath his frame, a book from his personal library falling in to his open hands. He attempted to read, but found he couldn’t focus on the words in front of him, to much information swirling around, it irritated him and he pinched his brow between his thumb and forefinger. _That elf was more trouble than she was worth._

With a snap he shut the book and folded his long legs beneath him and hoped that meditation would clear his mind.

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all followed that one ok, it kind of got away from me. 
> 
> I thrive on Kudos and love love love comments!


	6. Let it Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't own anything Marvel.
> 
> Bits of smut in this chapter, very classy, not porn.
> 
> Enjoy, things start picking up in the next chapter!

* * *

 

“Concentrate, darling,” he reiterated from just behind her ear. She sucked in a breath at his closeness, which was doing absolutely nothing to help her concentrate on anything other than visualizing him wearing nothing at all. Honestly though, who could focus with someone like the God of Mischief standing but one step behind you.

“I _am_ concentrating.”

Áine fluttered her outstretched hand and shifted her footing slightly, attempting to find better purchase on the wet grass beneath her bare feet.

“Try harder.”

She resisted the urge to turn her head and shoot Loki a glare– mainly because she knew the second her eyes met his, she’d lose any scrap of focus she had left. He was an annoyingly attractive thorn in her side.

“Visualize what you want, keep it in your minds eye,” his hand slid down her naked arm to settling onto the top of her hand. She could make out every detailed rune etched into his gold cuff as a ray of sun glinted off it.

“Then pull the particles around you, force them to take shape, become solid. This is more than a mere illusion; this copy must have form, have weight, must be able to fight and have strength.”

_And you need to be quiet._ Áine huffed in exasperation and steadied her gaze in front of her; _focus, focus, focus,_ she chanted silently and called on her magic. A gold shimmer began to form like heat rays on a blazing day, distorting the column on the other side of the garden they were practicing in. She focused on her magic, imagining a guard was standing in front of her, pulling the wayward particles floating in the air together and binding them together with lengths of golden rope, stringing the copy up like a marionette doll.

Finally the form solidified, a random palace guard complete with silver armor and a six-foot tall spear in his hand.

Loki hummed in satisfaction and Áine stole a glance him as the arm that bore his fell down against her side; his green eyes were gazing back at her steadily, brow lifted, mouth twisted in a lopsided smirk.

“Not bad,” he murmured, his breath tickled her neck. She silently cursed her decision to wear her hair up in a bun; it left too much skin available for Loki to tease. This back and forth flirting had been going on for months yet neither of them had made any move more than teasing caresses and stolen kisses on exposed flesh when the other had their attention diverted. It was sweet torture, their little game, always leaving them with a dark burn in their eyes before they parted; she wondered then why they hadn’t just attacked each other yet. Áine thought perhaps it was because she was marked by Galadriel that he did not attempting anything else but then, Loki was never one to shy away from breaking rules, especially if doing so would cause discord. Perhaps it was because Hazel now accompanied them almost every day for the past several months; she had snuck out from under her mother’s watch for several days to follow Áine and Loki around the palace until finally she was simply invited along. Now she sat on a tree branch reading a book Loki had brought her from the royal library.

Áine took a step forward, toward her guard and away from Loki; she circled him, inspecting him for flaws in her design and thankfully found none. She smiled at her handiwork.

“Well now, I think my good word deserves a reward. I believe I saw the chiefs making a rather delicious looking chocolate cake–”

A silver dagger whizzed by her face, just nicking the side of her ear; the second one would have impaled her shoulder had she not commanded the copy to defend her with a pulse of magic. He knocked away the three more daggers with a spin of his long spear, moving in the path of each one as they flew towards Áine. She watched with annoyance as Loki continued to attack the manifested guard; then with one more elegant flick of his wrist he threw a jagged looking knife with deadly accuracy right at the place a heart would reside in the copy. The guard dropped his spear and fell to his knees before dissipating in a cloud of golden dust. Áine dropped her hands to her waist and glared at Loki who smiled back gleefully.

“I don’t appreciate your habit of using me for target practice,” she grumbled as she brought a finger to her ear and winced as it came back bloody. It stung, but it wasn’t deep enough to scar, “especially when your intention is to actually maim me.”

“A mere scratch, darling. Completely unavoidable, you needed something to catch your intention,” he moved toward her, his hand out stretched to touch her ear, “you’ll live, just heal it yourself before you stain your vest.”

Áine just gave him a blank stare, “I cannot.”

Loki cocked his head to the side in confusion. “What?”

“I cannot. I may be able to mend a broken leg or bring a man back from the brink of death, but I can’t heal so much as a paper cut on myself.”

“And why is that?” He asked intrigued. She saw he pluck a handkerchief out of thin air–she knew of course that he simply pulled it out of one of his empty space pockets- and dabbed it along the cut; she shrugged.

“All magic comes with a price, for some it blackens the heart, or shortens their life; for many, they are unable to use some form of magic because it conflicts with their nature, or one type is of superior power and so they are hindered in another way. I am the best healer in the nine realms, yet I cannot heal myself.”

He hummed to himself again; his emerald eyes no longer looking at her but off in thought, his hand rubbed against a cuff. She supposed that would make anyone rethink their use of power, knowing that you are in someway limited– and Loki is not one to like restraint, at least on himself.

“Hazel!”

Áine turned towards the voice and saw Vasanna walking towards her daughter, still sitting on a tree branch; the little girl jumped down into her mother’s arms with a giggle.

“Your majesties,” Vasanna said and managed an awkward curtsy with Hazel on her hip, “I’ve just come to fetch Hazel for the day. I’ll make sure a pageboy returns her to you for your afternoon plans tomorrow, my lady.”

She spoke the last part directly to Áine, who nodded back in return.

“Of course,” she replied, “I’m looking forward to our adventure, aren’t you little one?”

Hazel nodded enthusiastically, “Yes!”

Áine smiled as Vasanna curtsied once more and headed out of the garden, behind her, Áine could feel Loki’s eyes boring a hole in the back of her head. She grinned despite herself, she loved being able to surprise him as it happened so rarely.

“You must be bubbling with curiosity,” she turned to face him. He raised an inky eyebrow at her; boldly she took a step towards him and enjoyed the way her toes brushed against his leather boots and how his fingers twitched towards her, as if he resisted the temptation to touch her.

“I do not _bubble_.”

“Mmmh, perhaps you’re right. You’re more one to burn.”

“An apt description,” he said wryly. Ah yes, he was _jotunn_ under that pale _Æ_ _sir_ flesh. He burns cold.

“You may join in if you want. For now, I have a very large bath tub already being warmed for me.”

Áine grinned widely at him and heart his heart rate pick up when she leaned into him, just a hairs breath away from his lips; she could see the little scar on his upper lip. Instead of kissing him as she very much waned to do, Áine closed her eyes and with a quick spell, melted through him in a shimmer of gold dust. She teleported to her tower located at the other end of the palace, pleased that she had learned that spell a month ago. She glided into her bath area, closed the curtain and waited for her surprised and more than likely aroused prince to inevitably show up, unannounced in her chambers. _Oh, this will be so much fun._

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t more than twenty minutes later that she detected the presence of his magic just outside the curtain and as her door made an old creak every time she passed through it, Áine assumed he used a silencing charm to sneak his was in unbeknownst to her. While this may have worked on the previous residents of the tower, of which she knew there were many– if the thoughts of the palace staff both men and women were any indication– none of them would have possessed Áine’s ability to sense Loki by the winter mint smell of his magic.

She smiled to herself as she stepped out of the bath, keeping her back facing the archway to her bedchamber, she slowly toweled herself dry and placed a foot upon the wooden chair beside the tub and began to slide a moisturizing crème against her still pinked skin. Behind her she could feel him admiring her openly, drinking in the sight of her; it made her feel powerful, and wanted to hold the power for as long as she could because she knew as soon as his hands were on her, he would steal away her control.

With one leg done she turned back to the glass jar sitting on the counter– only to find it no longer sitting there. The sensation of cool fingers kneading her flesh turned her attention back to her leg, her very naked leg that currently had Asgard’s dark prince down on one knee before her. _Well, so much for control._

Áine worked hard to keep her breathing even as she gazed down at him, his bright emerald eyes following the curve of her leg as he work his way up her thigh, gold cuffs scraping her with every movement, a small smirk on his thin lips.

“Took you long enough,” she said, hands running through his hair as his hands climbed further.

“Unlike you I didn’t cheat, I used my own two feet to get here,” he murmured.

“Cheating is your game, darling. I was only inviting you to play.”

“Well you’ve picked my favorite game.”

His hands worked their way over her chest and smoothed over her shoulders; Loki stood now nose to nose with Áine, her own hands tangled in his hair which hand grown down past his shoulders in minute waves. It brought out an animalistic side to him, not haggard as so many _Æsir_ men look with long hair, but wild and dangerous like a jungle cat. She elicited a growl from him when she gave a tug on his raven locks.

“I do so enjoy your hair this long.”

“Yes, as do I,” his smirk grew and with a snap of his fingers she felt the pins in her hair vanished, her hair tumbled down landing just shy of the curve of her back. Loki’s hands thread through the tresses and pulled, tilting her head up so that his mouth could kiss the side of her throat.

Áine purred and Loki pulled her flush against his body, the fabric of his tunic rough against her bare flesh. How unfair for him to be clothed while she stood there naked for him to enjoy–she wished to enjoy him too. With Loki’s mouth continuing its attack on her neck she dragged a hand down from his shoulder with the tingled of magic on her fingers and made the tunic disappear completely, hand resting on his hip.

His naked chest now rested against hers.

“Mmmh, isn’t that better, darling?”

Loki’s laugh reverberated in his chest making Áine’s skin prickle and heat to grow between her thighs.

“Aren’t you an eager little thing,” he nipped her earlobe and she arched into him, need for him growing by the second. Speaking of growing…

“I could say the same for you.” She shifted her hips against his and she relished in the low moan that escaped his throat.

Suddenly his lips were on hers, sucking, biting, stealing her breath as he kissed her with such fervor as she had not felt for years. His lips and tongue demanded a response from her and she gave in gladly to his demands, loving every movement of his body against hers. Her magic still active she teleported them to her bed and she landed with an _omphf_ on the soft mattress, Loki’s heavy weight pressing down on her.

_Oh Norns, why is he still wearing those trousers?_ Áine thought to herself, wishing with all her might that his hands weren’t so beautifully distracting as they danced across her breasts, caressing and pinching.

**_-Well if you ask nicely._ **

Áine’s eyes snapped open– when had she closed them?– and stared into Loki’s as his voice invaded her mind. Damn, she must have sent her thoughts to him without noticing; she though he’d be angered at her intrusion and so was surprised when he gave into her want and majiked the rest of his clothes off.

**_-How are you going to thank me, pet?_ **

Annoyance flared under her want of him and she rolled them over so she sat atop him, knees parted around his hips. His green eyes burned up at her with desire as she bared her teeth at him and growled just shy of playfully.

“I am no one’s pet,” Áine rolled her hips and Loki moaned, his own hips bucking into her in response. She struggled to maintain her composure as a wave of pleasure crept down her spine– Norns he felt _good_.

“I am me. Do you want me, dear prince?” She planted her hands on either side of his face and crushed her lips against his, stifling any answer he might about to give; his strength may be superior to hers, but for this one moment she held the power over him and she relished in it.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that. Speak up, my Loki. What do you want? My lovely dark prince, AH–”

Loki’s hands on her hips cut off anything else she might have wanted to utter. She didn’t really feel like talking anyways and let him take over, relinquishing control over to him. Áine just let herself drown in the sensation of him, pleasure building as he let himself loose, losing himself in her as she was in him. Her mind was still open to him and there was a steady chant of _mine, mine, mine_ , coming from Loki that echoed her own thoughts. The green tendrils of his magic snared themselves with Áine’s golden ones, weaving and interlocking between their minds in millions of never-ending knots until the two were so connected neither could discern whose thoughts and desires belonged to whom. It only severed to make them better lovers to each other, for they knew exactly where to touch, to kiss, to bite to make the other moan or hiss in pleasure before they even had to ask.

Never before had Áine experienced this sort of intimacy before, of course she had taken many lovers in the past, but none has ever linked their mind with hers; she found she enjoyed it immensely, and Loki’s mind hummed in agreement with hers. Áine felt free and powerful with Loki beneath her, like she could move mountains and he could build new ones in their wake. He felt they could walk on water, build and empire from nothing but sand, make entire forest grow with just a thought; she felt as though she could control a realm with a snap of her fingers, make worlds bow beneath her feet. Her mind belonged to him and his to her, connected through millions of gold and green threads; her ideas were his, his needs belonged to her, they were one in the same both struggling to be free of the burdens others had deemed them worthy of bearing. He would die for her in that moment, she would live for him.

Everything was absolute bliss as she shattered, waves of pleasure rolling though her body only increasing as Loki’s own climax mingled with hers. Of course it’s always at the peak of satisfaction and joy that something finds a way to ruin it; with the after shocks beginning to wane something else awoke in its wake.

Pain flared from her thigh where her _Ōþalan_ was burned and she dropped down against Loki’s chest the smell of salt and leather and mint evaded her nose as she buried her face in his neck. Good lord it burned as if it were being branded into her skin for the first time, Áine bit her lips to try and stifle a whimper.

“Áine?”

Panic that was not her own filled her thoughts clawing at her mind like sharp talons, bone crush anxiety only made her pain flair brighter, and she struggled to keep from hyperventilating for reasons completely unrelated to those previous. Áine could feel his hands flying over her body, trying to find somewhere to touch so that he could stop her pain.

“Áine!”

_She was hurt, she was in pain. Oh Norns what did he do? This always happened, always brought pain to those around him, his mother, his brother, Sigyn. All of them damaged by him, broken by him, always his fault, his fault. Not again, please, not her– He cannot have her! He cannot have her, she is_ _mine, mine, mine–_

“Loki… Loki, stop. Shhh… Your mind darling, calm,” she said shakily into his neck trying to ignore his thoughts as pain radiated from her leg. Her eyes blurred with unshed tears and she brought her head up so that she could look into his eyes. _What did I do, what did I do?_ His quiet panicked thoughts whispered to her.

“Please, you need to calm. I can’t… I can’t close the connection. Please…”

The last word was whispered so quietly she doubted he could hear her, but he began to reign in his anxiety, replacing it with concern little by little until he shifted under her, curling her body on top of his chest. Her _Ōþalan_ continued to burn with renewed heat so hot she could swear that if she were to look at her flesh she was sure she would see it smoldering. She needed… she needed…

“Cold,” Loki murmured, grabbing onto her train of thought. Áine almost cried out in relief when she felt his freezing hand rest over her thigh; she stole a glance down at his hand and saw that it was blue, blue all the way up to his shoulder, the raised symbolic lines a midnight shade in contrast to the cobalt of the rest of his skin. If there ever was a time she was glad for him to be _jotunn_ this was it _._

“Aren’t I the lucky one, catching on fire near the one person who can cool me down,” she attempted a shaky laugh, the pain almost gone but the memory was still alive.

“Does this happen often? If so I might have to cut this arrangement short– it rather negates all the work I put into making this pleasurable. ” Loki deadpanned, his face displaying no emotion yet because she was still connected to him she could read the hardness in his eyes as concern.

“I can assure you that if I had known this to be the outcome of a romp with you, I would not have invited you to my bed.”

That was only partially a lie, as much as the burn hurt she couldn’t deny he was quite extraordinarily talented with his body as every thought about him claimed, she would have gone in for a drink of him anyways to quench the need to know if those thoughts exaggerated. Of course since all of this ran through her head Loki easily picked up on it and now that his anxiety had been for the moment tucked away, he could gather that her pain was not do to something he explicitly did to her, his shoulders relaxed just a fraction.

“So what now?” Áine looked imploringly at him as if she assumed him to have all the answers.

“I doubt it was sex that triggered the mark to burn,” Loki said as he rummaged through her thoughts and found she had been with several lovers since Galadriel had claimed her and nothing like this had happened before.

“No, perhaps it is because our magic got tangled? There are threads of green woven into my rope now.”

Loki hummed in agreement and found that the same was true for his reserves, swirls of gold shinned in his mind.

“Perhaps, I would assume then the magic that was used to claim you sensed me as an enemy and lashed out.”

“But that would mean you would have to be powerful enough to challenge Galadriel, to overcome her own enchantment…”

Suddenly she looked at him with greedy eyes, a hand trailed along his jaw. They were the eyes of a starved man offered a leg of meat, of an addict who was offered his drug.

“My, my, what has the Allfather locked up in you? With power like that you could release me from my fate, I could be freed from this infernal _Ōþalan_ , I could destroy her essence so she could never again claim me. The counsel would come for me, oh yes, but with that power they could not touch me, could not force me back into submission. We could take the thrown out from under my father, reshape the realm however we wanted, we could–”

“Do none of those things since those inklings are not your own and I am still bound.”

Loki’s voice sliced through her words bringing her mind up short and like a slap in the face she crashed back into reality; those thoughts indeed were not Áine’s, no they were Loki’s from over a century ago when Thantos had whispered to him to steal the Tesseract. _Those thoughts were not her own._

“That is certainly going to be annoying,” she blinked, “were you always that dramatic?”

He glared at her.

“Were you always so annoying? And clingy,” he added as an afterthought.

She huffed and moved to sit beside him pulling a bit of sheet up and tucking it under her arms. Áine was by no means shy about her nudity, but she was starting to feel cold; immediately Loki snatched his hand back, pale and pink once again. Realizing that he was still tuned into her every thought she built up a wall to keep him blocked. Silence followed until–

“Áine, our minds are still linked…”

“Yes, what of it?”

“Because our magic is knotted…”

“I’ve already said as much.”

“Then think princess! You hold my magic and I hold yours; if all magic comes at a price…” he drawled as if talking to a young child or a particularly daft adult. Áine frowned at him before she gasped and opened her eyes as wide as saucers; she summoned a dagger from one of the cabinets in her closet and slid the blade against Loki’s abdomen a line of crimson blood welled up in its wake.

He didn’t even flinch when she cut him, his expression becoming stony when the wound did not heal when he sent his magic to it. Áine brushed her hand against it and it disappeared, skin unmarked as if it had never been touched; she met his gaze.

“Your price, Loki,” she said lowly, “What was your price?”

Loki lifted an eyebrow to her, putting on an air of aloof inference to the whole affair when she knew that he shared the same small amount of wary distain for their predicament.

“And why would I tell you such a thing? I don’t go about giving away my weaknesses.”

“Because my weakness is now yours, you dolt! It would be only wise to return the favor.”

He sighed and held up an arm, wrist bare save the gold cuff engraved with runes.

“Binding magic. Can’t break even the simplest of charms.”

“You can’t break those,” Áine said, “because they’re made with love magic. That is strength of the heart, not strength of the mind.”

Loki rolled his eyes–there he goes again with the dramatics– and produced a set of mortal handcuffs, his pale open offering them to her.

“Enchant them if you don’t believe me.”

She took them skeptically, he wasn’t exactly know for telling the truth straight out, he preferred misdirection, omission and lies.

“ _Adligo_ ,” she murmured and with a flick of her hand they settled onto Loki’s wrists, the weak mortal metal looked dull in comparison to the Asgardian gold arm cuffs. She watched as Loki tried to force them off and found–after a quick peak at his thoughts– that he was indeed trying in earnest and could truly not remove them.

Curious, she waved her hand again and the handcuffs disappeared from his wrists only to appear on hers. Thinking that because she was the one who enchanted them, she should be able to reverse it quite easily, oh how wrong she was. She tried everything she could think of, short of breaking her own wrists before Loki seemed to take pity on her and snapped the metal with a pinch of his fingers.

“Believe me now, dearest?” He smirked. Áine’s mind was swirling around with too many thoughts–all hers at least– to count and it felt like another weight had been set upon her shoulders. Loki was a powerful asset to be sure even restricted as he was, but he was just another thing tying her down, making her bound to something else; Galadriel, the council, Asgard, and now him.

She hated the way it seemed like all of Yggdrasil was trying to control her life, she hated feeling out of control; there were few things left she could control.

“The _Ōþalan’s_ reaction, do you believe it to be a one time occurrence?” She peered down at him, hands now tucked behind his head.

“Most likely. My magic is already in your system it wouldn’t be labeled hostile.”

“Good.”

Áine leaned down and pressed her lips to his and pushed all other thoughts to the back of her head.

 

* * *

 

Loki ended up staying with Áine for the remainder of the afternoon entertaining every whim she could think up and teaching her a few of his own. He found it amusing that she coped in the same way he did when there was too much going through his mind– by engaging in as much physical activity as possible to tier himself out. Sometimes he trained until he couldn’t lift his arms, other times he might find a palace worker and enjoy them until he was spent.

Much like Áine was now, curled up on her side, head nestled in his lap as he rest against the headboard with a book in one hand, the other unconsciously played with her hair.

He had waited a long time for her to finally break down and come to him, begging to be taken and in the end he had won– well, mostly. True, she had been the one to make him walk clear across the damn palace to get to her, but still, she had caved first.

Áine sighed and wriggled in his lap, an arm stretched above her head in an arch and promptly slapped him across the cheek. Loki glared down at her only to find that she was still sleeping peacefully, arm now tossed across his legs.

He let his hand fall from her hair and rub circles down her back, loving the way her curves dipped underneath his fingers. Norns, sometimes he wonder if she was worth all the trouble; she was a banished princess whose life was claimed by a long since thought dead goddess yet, he harbored a certain affection for her, enjoyed her company and he felt she was his most promising magical apprentice since Lorelei, she would be truly powerful if he had his way.

That is if Galadriel didn’t toss her out of her body or he didn’t kill her first out of annoyance– of course he's said that before, but now his mind seemed to be permanently linked to hers. He had tried to dissolve it when she fell asleep but it he could not find where his magic ended and hers began. If he were to go in blindly and just start snipping the threads he could risk serious damage to both of their minds, which Loki was not willing to risk. It was easy enough to block her thoughts from him, but he could still sense her, a small presence in the back of his mind; he would be loath to admit it aloud, but he secretly liked it. Unlike Thantos whose presence was a black snarl, Áine was a gold glow.

While irritating, it does have the potential to be advantageous, he couldn’t deny that it made sex more interesting and pleasurable, he could definitely see how it would come in handy in a fight and certainly for causing mischief. _Oh what fun we could have, dearest._

“Mmmh and what do you have in mind for that?” Áine’s muffled voice floated up from his lap. She rolled over onto her back, the blanket falling down to rest at her waist, she wrinkled her nose and laughed.

“I suppose I could just take a peek if I truly wanted to know…”

Loki stiffened beneath her, he may be mostly over Thantos, but that didn’t mean he _enjoyed_ people sifting his thoughts.

“But I won’t–”

The tension eased from his shoulders and he set the book down as she trailed a hand down his neck.

“Because I know that if I do, you’ll only return the favor. So lets respectfully stay out of each other’s heads unless we grant permission, yes?”

Loki nodded, “I find that to be an amiable solution.”

“Perfect,” she said and glanced out the open curtain to the balcony and Loki noted that the sun had already begun to set.

“You skipped out on your practice with Thor this afternoon I see.”

“Well,” Loki smirked, “I was rather busy putting my hands to better uses.”

“On that we can both agree.”

Loki knew that he’d have to leave at some point, he doubted she’d want him to stay the night with her– Amora certainly never did, neither did Lorelei, and he never invited any other courtier to sleep beside him.

“Will you leave tonight then?” Her voice brought his attention back down to her, annoyance heavy on his brow.

“And here I was under the impression that we weren’t reading each other’s minds.”

He watched Áine roll her eyes.

“I didn’t, you’ve built up a nice wall. But your emotions still come though, almost like tasting a good wine– It’s a preview.

“You were feeling uncertain, and then annoyed. So, do you want to stay?”

Loki didn’t answer immediately, choosing instead to run a hand along her chest and summoned a try of food for the both of them to share. They had after all skipped luncheon and were currently missing the evening meal.

They ate in a comfortable silence, Loki simply enjoying being around another person that harbored no ill will towards him. There was a very small list of people who fit that bill.

In the end he did not leave and spent the night with his arms wrapped around Áine, basking in her warm body pressed against his. It had been over a century since he had spent a night like this, he had convinced himself that he didn’t need it, that it was easier to be alone and dethatched, but here, with that little elf in his arms, he could not imagine returning to his cold bed alone. Loki’s were beginning to drift shut hours later after several more passionate tumbles in the sheets, sleep nipping at the edge of his sight. If he was to be asked, he would deny it profusely, but it seemed as though just before he unconsciousness claimed him, that her could see his mother’s smile from the balcony.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are always welcome!


	7. All Hail the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to not own any Marvel characters, nor have I experienced or share any view with the charters in this story. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this next chapter, it's a doozie.

 

* * *

 

Loki left with Áine from the great hall after luncheon the following day, feeling lighter than he had in a century; he supposed a night and subsequent morning of a rather delightful time in bed would do that. Yet it did not encompass him completely, as nothing every really did, and he could not ignore the uneasy prickle on the back of his neck.

He rubbed the spot with a frown, hoping that it was just a bad draft.

“What’s wrong?” Áine asked from his side, a green jewel on her diadem shining light into his eye.

“Nothing.”

“You cannot lie to someone who’s in your head.”

Loki sighed, his fingers brushed by hers, and he watched her shiver and touch her neck just as he had.

“That is what is wrong. Something in the air is… not right,” he muttered.

“Hmm, perhaps we should postpone our adventure until–”

“No, whatever it is I will take care of it.” Áine looked as if she was going to argue but Loki grasped her hand, and her words of protest were halted by his surprising action. Surprising to both parties.

They were rounding a corner when a little squeal of delight and the smatter of small feet on marble flooring sounded throughout the corridor.

Hazel bound over to where they stood and jumped into Áine’s arms, a pageboy–Ikol, Loki thought was his name– trailed behind her a broad smile of his face.

“Áine! Are you ready to go? Come on, come on, I’ve never seen pixies before,” Hazel chattered excitedly. Loki smiled at her eagerness.

“Yes, yes we’re on our way. They aren’t going to disappear on us,” Áine smiled back at her and Loki gazed at her mouth distractedly. He did so enjoy they way it curved when she grinned and the small dimple on her right cheek it created.

“You’re coming with, right Loki?”

He flicked his gaze back to Hazel who was looking over at him with stray curls falling in her big eyes. Before he could stop her, she sprung out of Áine’s grasp and clutched onto his chest; he threw an arm around her small waist, ruffling the fabric of her plain, spring green dress.

“And where is it you are going, little one?”

“A meadow, by the horse pasture!”

Loki’s smile twitched, that was outside his boundaries.

“Sorry, little one, but I’m afraid there are things I must attend to today.” He felt Áine’s discontent through their link.

When Hazel’s eyes began to drain of their mirth he felt his heart ached in a long forgotten way and he felt a powerful urge to alight her face once more; damn when had he become sentimental?

“But I shall part you with a gift,” he said suddenly. He knelt and set her on the floor. With a twist of his wrist he pulled a green ribbon out of the air, the same one Hazel had eyes months ago at the market and tied it into her curls at the top of her head. His fingers moved gently as he rearranged her hair around the new adornment.

“There, better now?”

“Yes, yes, yes! Thank you!” She squeaked and threw her arms around his neck in a hug with more strength that he was expecting. Loki let out a breathy chuckle and returned the gesture for a moment before putting her at arms length.

“Now then, off with you,” he said attempting a stern expression and failing, “you mustn’t keep Áine waiting.”

“Okay!”

She turned on him and skipped back over to Áine, grabbing her hand and tugging as an impatient child does. He looked to Áine whose outward appearance revealed nothing but he could sense apprehension and disappointment in her gaze. A hand twitched towards her, but he fought back the urge to comfort her, not wanting to begin something he could not finish nor to show that he was so in-tuned to her feelings. Sentiment be damned.

“Enjoy your afternoon, dearest,” he said with a smirk. She merely raised an eyebrow at him.

“Until tonight, Loki,” she replied, her voice laced with a promise. His mood improved marginally.

“Bye Loki!”

He smiled at Hazel, “have fun, little one.”

They walked away from him down the hallway, Ikol offering a bow to them as he began to part from the group in the opposite direction. As he was about to pass, Loki’s arm shot out and curled around the younger man’s bicep, halting his progress. The pageboy looked startled and confused at Loki’s movement, but he cared not.

“You are released from your palace duties today. You are to shadow the Princess and the child. You are not to be seen or heard and you will only interfere if they be in any danger–“

“Are you expecting danger, my lord?”

“Do not question your prince, boy. Do as I say,” Loki released the boy and waited until he set out down the same path Áine had taken before turning on his heal and heading down the hall towards the library.

He knew Áine would be offended if she knew he had sent anyone to trail her, he picked that straight from her mind, yet he couldn’t ignore the strange prickling on his neck. It felt strangely familiar, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on where he recognized it.

The scraping sound of chairs dragged Loki’s attention form his thoughts and to an open meeting chamber where several members of counsel were greeting each other at the door. Quickly, he cast an invisibility spell and snuck closer to the door, managing to duck beneath two advisors grasping forearms into the room.

He recognized the interior immediately; weapons adorning the walls between large maps of every realm, a large bookcase that held all kinds of battle strategies from every race imaginable, and one of Loki’s own Holo-Catalogs– which were a magical collection of every book in the Royal library conveniently stored in a stone shaped piece of metal. It took him a decade to work out all the kinks so that when one called on a book it wasn’t blank and so that it could translate any language into the Allspeak. He felt quite proud of himself once he’d finished it and would have been more than delighted to know it was being put to use if it had not been in the one room Loki dreaded only third to the throne room and the prisons– the War Chamber.

A sinking feeling began to settle in his gut for he did not share his brother’s and most of this realms obsession with charging into battle before any diplomatic arrangements could be made. That did not mean he was immune to the adrenalin and blood lust that came from a good fight, but he tried only to give into them when the battle was warranted.

“Gentlemen, let us begin shall we?” Odin’s voice commanded from the opposite end of the chamber from which Loki stood, nestled between a row of axes and a map of Yggdrasil.

The counsel members settled into chairs at the heavyset gold table, robes rustling and chairs scraping. Among them, he noted, were Thor, Heimdal, and Erik Bardagison captain of Asgard’s army who was a brute of a man with a stout body made of solid muscle and a once, supposedly, handsome face marred by a large scar that caused half his face to frown perpetually. The rest of the counsel consisted of three Lords from the highest court houses- Björn, Viduligr, and Flotnar– three of the crown’s most trusted advisors– Nýsta, Cuyler, and Audun of whom Loki personally taught– and the smith from the royal forgery.

What concerned Loki most however, was the face he did not recognize sitting at the opposite end of the table from Odin dressed in pale silver, two body guards posed on either side of his chair. They both wore lithe battle armor colored with earth tones, gleaming armbands the same brilliant silver as the sitting man’s braided crown; all three sets of their pointed ears were capped in silver as well. _Elves._

“Yes, I’d rather get this over with quickly,” the elf said, his voice reminding Loki of a fall breeze. The Asgardians in the room all shifted uneasily.

“You have your private audience with me and my counsel. Speak your concerns quickly and precisely,” Odin said.

“You have stolen something from our people, I wish to have it returned.”

“And what item is it you accuse us of possessing?”

“An old relic of ours. A very powerful source of Alfar magic,” the elf voiced, leaning forward in his chair, lacing his fingers in front of himself. “Our _aranel_ and the infinity Life stone she bears.”

He tucked away the Life stone information for later– he cared not about the damned rock– but other part stuck in his head. The elvish word rolled languidly off the man’s tongue, Loki tensed once his mind worked out the translation. _Princess._ If they are here for Áine then that must make the man–

“Ambassador Niall, speak plainly,” Thor rumbled, “We do not speak your tongue.”

Niall smiled which only served to make anger flare within Loki; it was a smile of pity one gives to a child when they ask a ridiculous question or make up their own answer. It was smug overconfidence.

“Of course, I tend to forget which realms have kept up–”

“Mind your tone, you are a guest in this palace and we will not stand for rude behavior,” Thor said; Loki found himself agreeing with his brother. Niall held up a hand in mock surrender.

“My apologies your grace, I digress. Princess Áine is being kept under the protection of the crown is she not?”

Again the room shifted, everyone tensing but Odin, who continued to stare at the elf through one narrowed eye.

“I come to retrieve her, have her return to her _proper_ place on Alfheim.”

Thor frowned, “Was it not your people’s counsel that banished her from your realm? Why do you seek to take her back now?”

Niall chuckled.

“It was her father, the King, who banished her without consent from the counsel. The old sentimental fool thought he could send her to Asgard to keep her from her duties, but now I come to take her back. So, give us the Princess and we shall leave, peaceably.”

“She resides under our protection,” Odin said, “Any person in exile or banishment may plead their case to us and seek refuge on Asgard’s soil. Your Princess has done such and we have accepted her into our walls.”

“You have no authority to keep her from her people,” Niall hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously. Everyone but Odin moved their hands towards their emptied sheaths, fingers itching to grasp a weapon. Loki radiated anger in the corner of the room, wishing he had enough magic to smite the elf where he sat.

“And you have no ability to take her away from where she has placed roots. She has forged a bond that will destroy her very essence if you were to sever it.”

Confusion began to seep into Loki’s anger, did Odin know of what happened between them?

“I know of her _Ōþalan!”_ Niall snarled, his eyes glowing brightly, teeth beginning to elongate into fangs like sharks teeth. Loki could only watch, stunned from the corner.

“Her body is promised to Galadriel and she belongs on Alfheim locked in her rooms where she can cause no harm to the sacred vessel that the goddess has chosen.”

“That is not the bond of which I speak. She shares a connection with my son, Prince Loki, a mind and soul link one of the most sacred of all bonds between two people–”

Niall looked outraged at this news, he stood from his chair, throwing it back in his wake. Thor and Erik mimicked him, standing on either side of Odin, eying the weapons the adorned the walls as if picking the ones they would lunge for first.

“How _dare_ you! She does not belong to you _Asgardian_ ; she holds far greater value than some prince’s plaything! Her mind is not for the _Æsir_ to hold, it belongs to Galadriel. Sever the bond, instantly and return her to us,” he remarked in a deadly tone. Loki’s blood continued to boil under his skin and he was seconds away from revealing himself to the chamber.

“If I were to force the two of them to cut the connection both of their minds would be lost, the magical ties are more knotted than the roots of Yggdrasil herself. They do not exist without each other now.”

Niall roared, hands slamming down onto the metal table, two dents forming in his angry outburst, the two bodyguards drawing identical swords in tandem and standing at the ready.

“ _Kuu’Datto! Coraanu!_ That selfish whore of a princess will return to Alfheim with me, no matter how defiled her mind is, her body belongs to us, she will–”

With a loud snap his words were cut off, a look of astonishment and rage plain on his face. Loki appeared from the shadows, wrapping himself in armor, sans his golden helm, and walked calmly towards the stunned group; he _tsk-ed_ at Niall who glared daggers at him and shook his head– shark like teeth retracting to normal. _Is that what Áine would look like when she got enraged?_

“Now, now, Mother always taught me if I wasn’t going to say nice things I should say nothing at all,” he said smoothly. Loki only smirked when the two guards made to block his path, with a flick of his hand the two swords turned green and scaly and the were dropped on the floor with a _hiss_ in astonishment.

“No need for weapons gentlemen. Now, shall we end this meeting?”

He stood before the elven ambassador and gave him a dangerous smile, “Are we going to play nice now?”

Niall glared harder but inclined his head all the same; Loki snapped his fingers and returned the stolen voice reluctantly when what he really wanted to do was rip out the man’s tongue and lob off his head. His anger must have been grand enough for Áine to feel through the bond as she sent him calming vibes; it eased his mind to know that she would seek to comfort him but he made sure his mental wall was still in place. Loki may enjoy the sense of emotions but he did not want her to hear any of what was being said here just yet.

“Prince Loki,” Niall said with distain, “I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but that would be a lie.”

“A statement I readily return.”

“Have you been in the shadows this whole time, brother?” Thor questioned.

“Of course, as a prince I should be aware of what happens in my realm should I not? I was without a formal invitation to this particular meeting however and as it seems to pertain to me, I do wonder how I was overlooked.”

His eyes shifted to Odin who merely grunted in response from his chair.

“This is highly improper-”

“You have no authority to interrupt-”

“Loki mustn’t be here, he is too involved already-”

“Silence,” he demanded and straightened to his full height. “I would hope you Lords had more decorum than this– speaking out of turn is highly improper, but I’ll ignore the transgression seeing as we have more pressing matters.”

Thor seemed to be trying hard not laugh at his easy dismissal and the counsel’s begrudging silence, even Heimdal and Erik seemed to fight back a smirk; Audun his former student snorted outright. He flicked his eyes back to Niall.

 “Now, I will ask you once,” Loki commanded with all the air of a royal prince of Asgard, “leave in peace as your realm so ardently strives to preserve, and we will not bother with retaliation on your kingdom. I do doubt you want to return to your king with the news that you have begun a war with Asgard.”

Niall laughed and rolled his shoulders back.

“I’m delighted you brought that up, the King is–”

But he was cut off once again as Loki broke his stiff posture and gasped in sudden pain and looked to his arm expecting to see a large gash on it but saw nothing, no blood, no wound, nothing. The pain he felt was only in his mind; he looked to it, searching his bond with Áine and finding her thoughts swirled in panic before settling into determination and mild fear but her pain was no where near his. It seems as though he shared her burden, siphoning off some of her hurt so that she could focus on whatever was before her.

He leaned onto the chair next beside him that Thor had vacated.

“ _Áine_ ,” Loki breathed out as another flash of pain resonated from his leg. He forced his knees not to buckle, locking them in place. _Of course she would discover this trick just when he needed to appear strong and in control._

“It appears their link is deeper than I envisioned,” Odin said from his chair. Gungnir appeared in his open hand and he banged it on the ground twice and not ten seconds later several guards burst into the room.

“The meadow near the stables,” Loki grit through his teeth at the guards who looked to him wearily but left swiftly after a nod from their king. The rest of the counsel stood in resolute silence while Niall grinned wickedly. If Loki could muster anything right now it was complete and utter distain for that man.

**_Áine,_** Loki pushed his voice through the bond. **_What is happening?_**

**_-Band of mercenaries, two on me, one on Ikol,_** cam her reply– her annoyance coming through the bond over that. He managed a weak smile until her next message.

**_-They claimed to not be alone; more headed for the palace._ **

Loki shivered and relayed the message to the room when Audun asked what was going on, the young man still cared for Loki and it was only because of that that he responded at all. He drew a hand to his cheek as he felt a blade swipe across his– Áine’s flesh. A new wave of concern fluttered through him.

**_-I’m fine, darling._ **

**_Hazel?_ **

**_-Shielded, safe._ **

He let go of a shaky breath and stood upright again, forcing himself not to focus on her pain and putting on an air of strength, anything to not appear weak before the vile elf. A tremor went though the floor and Heimdal stood from his seated position, helm and sword appearing out of nowhere.

“The palace has been breached. I must go,” he rumbled. He received a nod from Odin and left, Erik hot on his heels while Thor stood at the door, conflicted between leaving Loki alone and protecting Asgard.

“Go,” Loki said.

Thor hesitated.

“Dimmit, brother,” he seethed, _“GO!”_

Perhaps it was his tone, or because he called Thor brother but he nodded once and left.

“Well isn’t this an interesting turn of events,” Niall said from beside Loki and had he not been so focused on not collapsing, he would have taken his speech from him again.

"And here I thought your race strived for peace," Loki growled.

"That we do, but we do not take kindly to those who steal from us, and they have felt our rage before, eons ago, before your father's father was even a though. We have burned the kingdom of the dark elves to the ground for refusing to let the light be shared and now you have stolen something very precious to us. You will soon feel our wrath too, if our Princess is not returned–"

A wave of sorrow came from the link and he turned inward again to find Áine and from her thoughts found her on her knees, arms around Hazel. His stomach lurched and he fought to control his breathing, _no… please_ ; he sent out a strand of his magic wrapping it around her and coaxed her to teleport to him. Her own magic grasped his almost unconsciously and obeyed his request.

Áine appeared at his feet looking battered, twigs in her hair blood on her cheek and on her tattered dress, a small bundle of fabric he knew to be Hazel clutched in her arms.

“I see Asgard is treating her well,” Niall quipped from behind him. But Loki just ignored it, choosing instead to drop to his knees beside her, grasping her shoulders in his hands. She raised her head up to meet his eyes and he when blood ran down her jaw he put a hand to her cheek and sent out what little magic he had reserved and began to heal her injuries.

“Hello darling,” she said shakily, “I do believe I’ll have to put a pin in our plans for tonight.”

Loki managed a small chuckle, if she still had her wits about her, she wasn’t too injured; he healed the cut on her face completely but could only manage to stop the bleeding on her leg before he ran out of power. Her shoulders eased and he realized he could no longer feel her pain roaring in his mind.

“Hazel–”

“Is fine,” she promised, “I put her to sleep and shielded her at the beginning of the attack. But you’re pageboy Ikol did not make it.”

Loki felt only a small twinge of regret for sending him to trail her but for all he knew his life saved hers.

“Loki, you must know, the people who attacked they wore the crest of–”

Áine cut herself off and he watched her eyes find Niall and glow with fiery recognition. He could share in their mutual hate of the elven ambassador.

“ _You,”_ she snarled and struggled to her feet, Hazel still clutched to her breast. He kept his arm around Áine’s shoulders and rose with her.

“Hello Princess, I’ve come to take you home,” Niall said with a pleasant smile, his two bodyguards still flanking him, Odin still silent in the corner with the rest of the counsel.

“You will make no commands of me. I am no longer your concern, now leave before I act in a terribly unrefined manner in front of my most gracious hosts.”

Niall only laughed at her and smiled that mocking smile.

“Oh princess, you do know how ugly rage can be,” he said, Loki assumed he was referring to the darker side of the elves he’d witnessed earlier.

“Now come quietly and we will not move your confinement to the dungeons.”

Loki began to open up his mind to her, sharing pieces of the earlier meeting with her, making her privy to the depths of their bond, to the Allfather’s declaration, to Niall’s intentions and he watched the anger begin to well under the surface. He was nothing short of impressed that she kept a cool head, as he knew how much the lack of control over her life was eating her up inside.

“My place is here on Asgard, my bond with Loki trumps that of Galadriel’s claim of my body,” she turned her gaze to Odin’s, “The mercenaries who attacked me wore the silver crest of Brighlinger making them loyal to one master, one house. Malvin Brighlinger, brother to Niall Brighlinger.”

Her words resonated in the large War chamber only the noise was of fights throughout the palace that drifted in the open doors for one moment. Niall looked confused, startled even from Loki’s view, but he cared not– for all he knew the emotions were faked.

“Impossible, the House of Brighlinger would do no such thing. We do not attack anyone. You lie, you whore of a Princess.”

“Mind your tongue or I shall take it from you again,” Loki snapped.

“I have no time for this,” Niall retorted, “By order of King Regent Tiernan, I command you to return with me to Alfheim. Loki felt Áine’s knees buckle and he threw an arm around her waist, yet he could not find the cause of her ailment, having already stabilized her wounds; he found her mind a swirl of mixed emotions too tangled to get a read on.

“Tiernan? No, no, my father Vadik is King. My brother would not ascend to the throne until he stepped down or was…” Her voice trailed off at the end and Niall gave her a cruel smile.

“That is right dear Princess, the King is dead. All hail the King, your brother. Now come make your family whole once–”

But Áine did not give him the chance to finish his sentence because she pressed Hazel into Loki’s arms and lunged at the man that dared tell her that her father no longer lived. He watched in horrified fascination as her face changed, her teeth sharpening, eyes glowing brightly, nails becoming long and dangerous. She managed to get in two good swipes at Niall that elicited muffled curses from him before he and his guards disappeared in a blast of a fall breeze.

Loki watched as she stood there where they stood, chest heaving, head bowed, her mind block from him, the room around them silent. Apprehensively he took a step towards her and her back stiffened, her breath returned to normal and she turn to Loki, her face devoid of any emotion, but her eyes spoke volumes of heartbreak and disbelief.

“Allfather, if you do not mind, Hazel and I will adjourn to the healing chambers.”

She took the child from Loki’s arms and he searched her face for some sign that she wanted him, needed him to accompany her, but found nothing.

“You may go,” came Odin’s gruff reply. She left without another word; Loki started after her but Odin’s voice stopped him.

“Give her space my son, she will need time to come to terms with what she has learned this night.”

Loki replied darkly, “Until I am free of these cuffs I am your prisoner, not your son. Attend to your people, Allfather, as a king should. Do not hide behind chamber doors and let Thor fight your battles for you.”

“He is to be king in but five decades, he must learn to care for his realm. Your mother would have wanted him to take charge, she would have agreed with me.”

“But it is not his yet!! Your kingdom has just been attacked, your impenetrable fortress once again breeched by a realm that boasted peace for the better part of all time. Thor is not yet the king, you are! Now act like it, and do not disgrace Frigga anymore than you just have by say that your actions are in her name.”

Loki strode out on that note and made for the healing rooms, leaving the room in stunned silence.

 

* * *

 

 

He did not find Áine in the healing chamber as he had hoped and thought that she must have retuned to her chambers. Loki decided he would stop by his own room first and discard his armor, having nothing left in his reserves to magic them away at the moment and he once more curse Odin’s bindings.

Loki kicked open his door and began to rip pieces of armor off, stripping down to a tunic a leggings as he made his way into his bed chamber. When he opened that door however he was greeted with the sight of Áine sprawled on his bed, clean once more and dressed in a light night gown, Hazel curled up in her lap with one of Loki’s spare blankets atop her. She was brushing the child’s hair as she looked up at him unshed tears welling in her eyes, he did not move towards her. Silence stretched until he broke it.

“Áine I–”

“Ikol fought well, he was brave for such a young boy,” she interrupted, her eyes falling back down to Hazel.

"They took us by surprise, surrounding us before I could even blink. The Ikol burst from his hiding spot and came to me side sword in hand, told me how he followed me on your order. Such a stupid but brave boy, he struck them first while I shielded Hazel, and tried to take them all on at once, hardly allowing me to help. But while I struck down one another came from behind and killed Ikol. I skewered the other two with a conjured spear and with a dying breath one told me that others were sent to the castle to find me...

“A group of the intruders made their way to my chambers, thinking I suppose that I might be there and they could capture me off guard, but I was not there. When I went back… the room as turned around, drawers emptied, curtains ripped, books thrown to the ground…”

His mind filled with images of her room so crystal clear as she remembered them he wondered if she sent them to him on purpose or if they found their way to him on instinct.

“But I was not in my room. Vasanna was. She was there and she was in their way…”

Her tears fell onto Hazel’s hair and she smoothed them away, Loki felt this terrible pit in his stomach at the sight of her, his strong witty princess, defeated. He began to walk towards her, unable to stand not comforting her any longer.

“And now… now Hazel is an orphan… Now Hazel is all alone because of me… Her mother is dead because of me… My father is dead because of me… Because of me… Because of me…”

Loki sat upon the bed beside her, bringing her head to rest upon his chest as he leaned back against the mountain of pillows behind him, Hazel nestled between their two bodies, not waking in the shift of position.

“Shhh,” he whispered to her, holding her close as she cried, his heart aching to comfort her in ways that he dared not voice out loud for fear they would not be returned; for fear that they would be.

“Do not cast me out this night. Let me stay, please…”

He only held her tighter and stroked her back.

“Of course, I’m here, I’m not leaving,” he said, “You can stay, you’re safe, I’m not leaving you…”

He whispered sweet nothings in ear throughout the night even when tears began to dry up, he rubbed curled in her back even when her breathing evened out, he held her still even when she feel asleep beside him and he followed her into the night. Loki calmed her when she whimpered in her sleep, and thought about all the ways he would make those men suffer for bringing such pain to his Áine, his Áine who was stuck in a life she could not control because everyone laid a claim on her. He hoped his claim on her heart would not add to her misery, as he would fast give his own heart over to her if she asked it of him. He would give her the moon if she asked, a kingdom to rule if she wished it, children if she wanted them–even despite his curse.

Loki did not know when it happened, if it was this night, or a night before, or sometime much later than now, but he had found himself irrevocably attached to the woman in his arms and the child that was not theirs between them. He felt something he had not felt in centuries– content. And he found he liked it.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for keeping up with me! 
> 
> I love comments and kudos and my lovely readers!


	8. To the Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Marvel characters, only the plot and my OFC.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

There are good ways to wake up in the morning, like in the arms of a lover, or to the scent of fresh baked cinnamon bread; then there are bad ways to wake up in the morning, like remembering that your home realm wants to throw you in a cage, or that somehow you have to explain to the little girl you’ve grown to adore that her mother is not going to tuck her into bed at night.

The following morning was a mix between a good and a bad morning for Áine; she woke up tangled in a mess of blankets and Loki’s limbs, Hazel tucked at the foot of the bed all bundled up, the darkness of her nightmare already fading into oblivion.

She knew Loki was awake before she opened her eyes, if not for his presence in the bond buzzing with awareness, then because of his fingers playing in her hair. Of course he would know how much she enjoyed that gesture, it was something her mother use to do when she was very little whenever she had a bad dream.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, which she thought was a ridiculous question because her mind was practically his own so he must know exactly how she felt and was simply asking out of courtesy. Áine did not reply, choosing instead to bury her face into the crook of his neck, enjoying the way he smelled like leather and salt and mint.

There was silence before he spoke again.

“Perhaps he was bluffing as a means to trick you. You could go to Alfheim…”

She shook her head and opened her mind to him as she relived old memories. Memories of when they began to forbade her from venturing beyond the markets, from the gates of the palace, from the royal wings, from her own rooms for fear that she might accidently, fatally wound herself and become an unusable vessel. Always about protecting the _vessel_ , not her, not Áine, only her body; she set out to defy them, submission was not part of her nature, and she would not allow them to make her a shell of a person. Memories of when the counsel deemed her mind traitorous for not wanting to allow her body to be used by the Goddess and so they tried to purify her with spells, strip her mind of its past sins so that she might be _clean._ Dirty they’d called her, unworthy of this blessing. She lost much because of them, she lost her family, her friends, she lost memories of things she’d done in the past–memories of her mother all gone save for the feeling of a soft hand brushing away the nightmares; stripped it away when they began to strip her mind. They took away what little freedom she had as a princess and locked her in a cage like a little bird.

Those were the small memories, they didn’t speak of the whispers that floated through her head… what they told her piece by piece… She kept that locked away from him.

Loki’s hand stopped its movements and instead came to rest under her chin and lifted her face up to his. She snapped her silver gaze to his green.

“You know as well I as that I cannot go there. I face either imprisonment by the counsel for trying to evade Galadriel, or imprisonment by the hand of the crown for returning from banishment without consent. As long as Asgard offers me a place, I will stay here.

“For now that discussion is closed, I will hear no more of it,” she said with finality, and Loki only shrugged, knowing that arguing would get him nowhere.

“What I worry about now, in this moment, is how to tell the child at our feet that her mother is dead because of me.”

“It was not your doing.”

“It was because of me that those mercenaries came to Asgard, that Vasanna was assigned to work in that tower, that–“

“And was it your hand that held the blade?” He snapped at her. Loki brought them to a seated position on the bed.

“Was it your choice to get attacked? Was it your–”

His green eyes blazed with anger, jaw muscles twitched as he clenched them, his hands on her arms tight almost to the point of pain yet all Áine did was tick her head to the side and stare at him in wonder. Those eyes, those emeralds though they burned with rage did not aim to smite _her_ but to smite any that brought her pain; those eyes that swirled with intelligence and mischief and sarcasm now were tinted with something akin to concern and dare she say it… compassion. _For her_.

“…You cannot continue to blame yourself for things that you have no control over, if there was ever another being who could understand that it is– _why are you staring at me with such an expression?_ ”

She smirked at Loki as he continued to seethe at her.

“You care for me,” she stated. Some of the fire drained out of his eyes.

He scoffed, “Do not presume to know things you cannot possibly–”

“Your denial only affirms what I say is true.”

Áine smiled at him, her hand linked with his and she found she loved the way his long fingers wrapped around her small ones.

“I care for you too,” she said quietly, “And I can gather that shows of true affection are rare for you as of late–”

Loki snorted.

“All I ask is that you do not push me away. Love is strength, not weakness my darling, do not dismiss it when it is given to you.”

“Are you admitting that you love me?” He asked in astonishment. Áine brought her hand to his cheek, thumb to trace his lips and they parted ever so slightly at her touch.

“I admit only what I know to be true,” she replied vaguely, neither accepting nor denying his accusation.

Silence stretched as he stared at her with a conflicted look on his face, stuck between watching to accept her words and wanting to toss them back at her in rage; he did not turn from her hand.

A sudden weight on her legs made Áine look down and found that Hazel had awoken, her eyes bright and her curls tangled. There was no laughter lighting those blue orbs now however, it was as if the little sun that resided in her had gone out; she looked much too stoic for such a young child.

“Mama is not coming back is she?” Her voice was small, yet Áine was impressed at how steady it was. She looked to Loki for what to say but for once his silvertongue seemed to have forsaken him.

“Come here, little one,” Áine said softly, Hazel crawled into the space between herself and Loki. Áine began to untangle the curls.

“She’s gone isn’t she? That’s why you have that look grownups get when they don’t want to tell you something. Mama had it when I asked when was Daddy going to come home.”

She stared at the child in mild shock, for one so young Hazel seemed to observe far more than the average child–at least more than the children she knew on Alfheim.

“I’m afraid so, Hazel,” Áine said and watched as her big blue eyes fill up with tears that she refused to shed.

“Will they take me away?”

“No,” Loki and Áine said simultaneously. She slid her eyes to his, brow lifted in amusement at their shared thought.

“No,” Áine repeated, “Not if you do not want to leave.”

“I want to say with you.”

She looked down at the child, large tears on the brims of lashes, a tremor of fear and apprehension in her voice; how could Áine deny her something such as this, when in her own heart she wanted it just as much.

“Of course, my darling.”

 

* * *

 

“We should attack them now when they would least expect it!” Volstagg uttered excitedly, his large voice echoing in the mostly empty throne room. The lot of them had been gathered by request of the Allfather to discuss the events of the day before.

“My sword has not seen action in sometime,” Fandral added.

“That’s the spirit,” Volstagg said.

“Which one?” Sif muttered under her breath. Loki could not stop the grin at the jab, as Fandral was a ladies man through and through.

“I’ll have you know that sword gets _plenty_ of atten–”

Odin sent them a withering look with his one-eyed stare and Fandral wisely shut his mouth. Loki rubbed at one of the etched cuffs, his long fingers brushing by Áine who stood close to his side and felt gooseflesh rise in response.

“My friends, we know not who raised those mercenaries and brought them to Asgard. If it were the work of the Brighlinger house alone then attacking the realm as one would mean innocent slaughter. We have held peace with the Alfar for this long, to break it now would be unwise.”

Thor’s words managed to impress Loki just the slightest, he never could have said that about Thor a hundred years ago–the oaf would have wanted to bash down the silver gates hammer swinging and laughter ringing. He might be worthy of the crown just yet, Loki mused.

“For once, you talk sense, brother,” Loki said, surprising the room with his agreement.

Thor nodded and continued.

“I admit that I know little about them. I have thought them a weak race, whose prowess did not extended beyond exceptional healing and negotiation, always preferring peaceful ways…”

Áine stiffened beside Loki.

“… Yet I have never witnessed a scene like the one of last night,” Thor said, nods from all in the room–save Odin, Áine, and Loki–accompanied Thor’s statement. While Loki had indeed never seen an elf transform as Niall and Áine had, he would not admit ignorance in front of them, nor make Áine feel as though he regarded her in the same way the rest did: wearily. _Æsir_ and their fear of the unknown, he scoffed silently.

“I know not what to make of it,” Thor admitted, eyes flicking to Áine, “perhaps Princess, you might share with us your thoughts on the matter.”

“Áine, please. And which matter would you be referring to?” She replied stiffly.

“The culprits behind my attempted capture or my appearance?”

“Both, if you would,” Thor encouraged, oblivious to her discomfort regarding the situation. Loki wanted to smack the fool, anger rising at his brother’s continued inability to read body language or hear the subtext in spoken words; he would very much like to reach across the room and shake sense into him. What was he thinking, a _king_ – hardly, he may have enough sense now not to barge into another realm and smash everything in sight but how could he ever know how to rule his own realm if he couldn’t understand nor see the feelings and needs of the people around him.

Áine must have felt his sudden change in temper as her hand suddenly clamped around his forearm; leather creaked in protest of her surprisingly strong grip.

“The armbands they wore bore the crest of Brighlinger, a powerful house because of their ties with the counsel–they were one of the original six that formed it back when Galadriel was thrown into the Void. They were her loyalists, who believed the crown was wrong to sentence her to such a fate and so they gathered Alfar together to seek a way to bring her back, to return her and her power.”

Loki watched her brows furrow out of the corner of his eye, tension pull at her shoulders and neck, grip on his arm increase in pressure; he attempted to reach out to her through the mind link but was pushed away with a plus of magic. At first he was affronted at her dismissal of him, then he was irate because he _should not_ care that she would not allow him to comfort her. _Sentiment_.

“They work independently from the crown, though that doesn’t stop them from having a very large influence over court members. They formed a religion of sorts and like a disease it spread through the realm and soon over half the houses of court and the public were affiliated with it. When Alfar women began to receive strange marks, it was they that calmed the nerves of the crown and the realm, who stole the women away and hid them in their temple, exalting them as chosen ones by the Goddess. They told us the women were being pampered and treated as royalty there and since none of them ever ventured out, we believed them; the stories spread as such throughout Yggdrasil.

“Few of them survived for long after Galadriel took hold of them, it was the only time they left the temple–to be buried. The affairs were quiet, covered up with… unfortunate accidents, I didn’t find out what was really happening until I was invited to the temple myself–”

“You bare the mark?” Thor interrupted. Loki envisioned different was to eviscerate the blonde idiot–magically would be quicker but a blade would be more personal and certainly more gratifying–

“Yes,” she said in a clipped tone, eyes flashing gold dangerously.

“I was not confined to the temple as the others were until much later, until I found a room I should not have found, and witnessed something I should not have witnessed. Then they began to restrict me. Before then, how we believe their stories is beyond me. But then… we’ve always been quite vain,” Áine bit out, grip once again tightening on Loki’s arm, her nails beginning to tear through the leather of his long coat.

He kept his expression neutral however, else he alert the others to her increasing anxiety and uneasiness this strong of thought was causing her. _There must be truly bad memories in that mind of hers,_ he thought, _if they are to cause her this much distress in recalling them._

“The Alfar have a tendency to… discard anything that is unsightly. As for if the Brighlinger house is acting alone or on the command of the counsel or crown in unclear. With news of my fath–of King Vadik’s death…”

Nails dug into his flesh like tiny daggers, he could feel the blood begin to seep out from the punctures yet he did not flinch, and kept the pain from traveling to her side of the link. A small part of him was impressed if not proud at Áine’s strength.

“…It is a possibility that his protection of me from the counsel has expired as a result. Perhaps they thought I would come back with them on that word. My brother, who now reigns as Regent King, is unfortunately a believer in the counsel’s religion, he would take their advise, even were it to have me caged or to send another band of men to capture me.”

“Why were you not called upon to take the crown, you are the eldest child are you not?” Landon Björnson’s voice called out from beside Thor, his ostentatious purple robes rustling as he turned his angular face towards Áine. Her grip tightened once more on his arm and he grunted quietly enough that no one seemed to notice; he thanked the Norns.

“If you were there to replace your father, perhaps this attack would not have happened were you there to control your people.”

“I was and am banished,” She replied as if she were talking like a small child, “Therefore I am put last in line for the throne. Even if I was not, though I am eldest, I am a woman. . Have you no knowledge of our culture, counsel man? In Alfheim a Queen may not rule without a King by her side, and as I am not married, I cannot take the crown.”

Loki felt a bit of her magic sweep towards the counsel man and he could sense she was taking a peek into his mind.

“Next time you seek to open your mouth in accusation I suggest you do your research; your time would be better spent with you face pressed between the pages of a book and not between the legs of your wife’s handmaiden.”

Fandral and Volstagg shared a laugh at Björnson’s chagrined expression, cheeks pinked and stance ridged. Sif and even Odin twitched their mouths in amusement.

“Do we know if Niall’s words were true? Of Vadik’s… passing?” Thor asked, his question directed at Odin this time instead of Áine. He shifted in his golden throne.

“Heimdal confirmed as much as soon as the mercenaries that lived were taken to the prisons. They have yet to speak of anything besides demanding that the Heart of Alfheim be returned–”

“They refer to Áine, I presume,” Loki spoke at last, his voice all too lofty, considering. Odin spared him a glance and a nod before continuing.

“Since their attack was only within the palace and surrounding grounds we will work to keep this matter hushed. There is no need to send the public into frenzy over something we are not certain of. I bid you rest, and say that it is perhaps in your best interest, Áine, to learn to fight with more than the tricks Loki has taught you. Lady Sif will see to it you are taught well.”

Sif nodded stiffly from beside Fandral at the Allfather’s command.

“Now, off with you all. And do clean up this mess Loki, your blood has stained this throne room far too many times for my liking.”

Loki looked down, surprised to find that blood has dripped from the wounds on his arm to the marble floor, splashing the white tiles with drops of red. Áine removed her hand as if he had burned her in shock, concern for him taking the dark edge off her thoughts for the moment. Her eyes met with his and he watched as panic, anxiety, and anger swirled around all fighting for control over her.

“I am sorry… I did not mean to…” Áine muttered before waving a hand over his forearm, healing the puncture holes she had caused.

“Quite alright,” Loki replied a small smirk firmly in place in an attempt to sooth her and make light of the situation.

“You do know how I like it rough, darling,” he added with an inky brow quirked. Instead of making her laugh as he might have hope, Áine only seemed to get more irate than she already was.

The room had been emptied of the rest of the counsel and Odin, leaving the rest to being walking out towards the training yard, Áine and Loki trailing behind Thor and his warriors.

“Please, continue to enlighten me on all your bedchamber desires,” she muttered to him darkly. He watched curiously as she rolled her neck in a circle and brush a hand against her thigh in an agitated sweep.

“I’d much rather take our leave of here and show you myself,” he replied feigning ignorance to her very sarcastic tone. The training yard was mostly empty, a few guards scattered here and there practicing with each other, broken straw dummies littering the stone flooring.

“My lady Áine, has my brother finally tried your patience?” Thor asked with an easy smile, turning toward her. The seven of them stood in a loose circle, Thor and Fandral directly across from her, Loki by her side, Hogun and Volstagg to her other, Sif beside Thor.

“Ah, if he has fallen out of your favor, I would have no qualms over spending my time with a lady as beautiful as you,” Fandral added flirtatiously. Sif rolled her eyes.

“Yes, because you are just what she needs.”

“I find I have exactly what every lovely maiden needs.”

“An insatiable need to be bed anything in a skirt?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my tastes extend far beyond just skirts. I have no problem with a pair of breeches–”

“Of course you don’t,” Sif replied playfully snarky. Loki stood quietly and watched Áine’s agitation grow ever more apparent in the tense set of her shoulders, the golden glow around her hands and the red snarl of her thoughts.

“Perhaps it’s best if this little training session is put on hold until tomorrow,” Loki began, but he was immediately drowned out by Thor’s booming voice.

“Nonsense! Father is right; she needs to have more than your tricks and her beauty to evade capture. A sword would suit her well or perhaps a spear–”

“ _She_ is standing right before you,” Áine snapped, her little bit of control beginning to snap, with all the stress she had been put under in the past few days he was surprised it had taken her this long to let go.

“You believe that magic will not aid me in battle? Do you think so little of your brother’s talents that you would insult him with such a statement?”

Thor, realizing his mistake began to make another one by speaking, “Of course not, but a true warrior needs physical strength as well, not everything can be fought with slight of hand.”

Loki could feel the fury rolling off Áine and he was positive some of his own feelings of hate were adding to her already tangled mess of thoughts through their link. Hogun seemed to sense this and rightly took a step back from their circle, Sif doing the same.

“Slight of hand is it? Trickery?” She breathed heavily. Fandral stepped in with a dashing smile, a hand pushed to Thor’s chest to stop him from replying, his other reached out toward her in a placating manner.

“Please forgive him, he doesn’t appreciate the more delicate things in life–”

“I would not do that–” Loki tried, but was cut off before he could continue.

“Beauty such as yours takes on a more subtle edge–“

“Oh, of course,” Áine said. Her face a mask of calm and control as if it had never been pinched in anger. Loki raised a brow and waited for her to strike, knowing that her sudden change in demeanor was not to be trifled with. _Better Fandral’s neck than my own,_ he thought to himself.

“How silly of me,” she said, voice as sweet as honey. Oblivious to the anger and mischief still rolling around in her silver eyes, Fandral relaxed and grasped her hand in his and kissed her knuckles.

“Because beautiful creatures could hardly be harmful could they?”

Loki felt a tingle of her magic and suddenly there was a blade at Fandral’s throat and the Áine in front of him melted in a shower of golden dust, the real version standing behind him. She held the dagger against his flesh and leaned into his ear.

“I’ve have learned many things in my life, and one of them is that the more beautiful something is, the more dangerous they are, simply because they are always underestimated.”

She let the tip of the dagger cut Fandral’s cheek ever so slightly as she moved to stand in front of him again. Loki noted there was a strange gleam in her eye that resembled the greed she had showed him before when she spoke of making empires crumble at her feet, of course then, just like now he mused, that though was fueled by his own thoughts of dominance. Perhaps there was an unspoken part of her that craved the ability to dominate, he could certainly understand the feeling–anyone who had been fettered and controlled as she had would certainly seek ways to gain their own control.

“Do not underestimate me again,” Áine said sternly, returning to Loki’s side. The rest of them looked at her with renewed interest and Sif even looked a bit impressed.

“And do not mock magical talent. There are things I’ve learned from Loki that you could never master in your wildest dreams,” and with a flourish she turned on her heel and tossed the dagger, the silver blade flying end over end rapidly before burring itself in a stone pillar across the training yard between two sparing guards who stopped their movements and looked to her in astonishment.

“Until tomorrow, Thor,” she said offering him nothing more than a nod of her head before she once again grabbed Loki’s arm and wrapped her magic around him, teleporting them away from the faces of the five very surprised warriors in a shower of gold and green dust.

 

* * *

 

Áine had brought them to Loki’s room and immediately conjured a bottle of wine and two goblets before pouring half the bottle of the red drink into her own cup and taking a rather large sip of it. She threw herself dramatically onto one of his chaise lounges before his fireplace, filling up his own goblet.

“Resorted to drowning your feelings in wine and threats?” Loki asked with an air of causality, regarding her with a calculating expression as he sat with legs crossed in an armchair.

“You disagree with my method?”

“On the contrary, it’s one I’ve often indulged in myself,” he admitted, summoning another bottle of wine to refill her emptied goblet. She grimaced as she downed another hearty portion; he raised a brow at her.

“More often then you have I’d wager.”

“Ever heard of vampires?” Áine said suddenly, changing the subject none too subtly.

“Yes, don’t the Midgardians have an unhealthy attraction towards that genre of mythical creatures?”

Áine snorted, the wine already beginning to take effect on her.

“Mhhm, they were the result of one too many Alfar traveling to that dreadful little realm some millennia ago. Their liquor was much stronger than on Alfheim and they overindulged their more… _sharp_ features coming into relief when they lost control in the human’s polluted realm.”

She raised a hand to her mouth, feeling her dulled teeth and remembering their length.

“They became enamored with us, those idiots. Not caring we could end their life with a flick of our wrist.”

“And yet the humans regard those creatures as mere myth,” Loki commented.

“Yes, eventually they stopped letting anyone who was not a scholar there for fear that the rest of the nine realms would become privy to their _unsightly_ secret. Vanity,” she scoffed.

“Indeed, may I ask why the sudden history lesson?” Loki questioned in a soothing tone, finishing his wine and setting his goblet on a table beside him. Áine rose from the chaise, a slight wobble he would not mention in her stance; she began to pace.

“Because I could never understand their infatuation with such vile creatures. Your counsel was right terrified by yesterday’s events and Thor’s warriors regard me with a healthy measure of uncertainty, yet you sit here in my presence without so much as a twitch of anything other than amusement and ease,” she railed.

“You are anything but vile, my dear. I do not behave as such because I see your nature as an asset, not as a threat, as you should,” Loki leaned forward.

“I respect your rage, and might even encourage it from time to time, but I know who for who you are. And that is the woman who worried over a child earlier this morning and opened her arms and heart to a man who has attempted planetary destruction on more than one occasion.”

“So forgive me for not bending at the knee in fear of you pointed teeth,” he said, reclining once again in his chair. She stood before him, rage beginning to abate and found when he searched her mind that the wine had muddled many of her thoughts but it had amplified him in her mind. She could not tear her eyes away from his form, gaze racking over him appreciatively. He smirked at her, enjoying the lustful look in her eye, imagining her mouth on his own, her bite on his neck, her hands on his body caged beneath hers…

She threw a grin in his direction when her eyes flicked to his.

“Does the thought of my teeth nipping at your flesh excite you, my prince?” she asked saucily, moving towards him but staying too far away for him to touch.

“Among other things,” he replied. He let out a wave of magic caressing her mind, encouraging her to drop her walls and let him in but he was met once again with the sting of her own magic keeping him at bay.

“Stay out of my head,” she growled at him, bearing her very un-pointed teeth at him

“Ooh, darling, I’m quivering in fear,” he mocked, “Perhaps you best teach me a lesson.”

He hoped he had not pushed her too far, but he was betting his gamble would pay off favorably as opposed to fatally, that her lust for him would overcome her current desire to shred him into ribbons. Áine growled at him once more, muscles coiling as she bent her knees and lunged at Loki.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo a cliffhanger, so how will it continue? Will rage win out or will lust?


End file.
